Moving on
by espiyo
Summary: Harry and Ruth have finally got together, but will Harry's quest for atonement ruin things before they've begun?
1. Chapter 1

He sensed rather than saw her standing in the doorway.

'Won't be long sweetheart, I just need to finish reading this report. I've got an 8am with Towers tomorrow.'

She didn't respond. Harry glanced up. She looked pale, and her fingers played with the necklace at her throat. 'Ruth? What's wrong?'

Her head dropped, as she mentally considered and rejected all the ways of telling him.

Alarmed now, Harry went over and tilted her chin up towards him, his blood running cold at the pity he now saw in those mesmerising blue eyes. 'What is it? Just tell me. Broad shoulders, these!' he tried to inject a bit of levity into his voice and failed miserably. Her hand went to his chest as if to steel him for what was to come, and his fingers closed over hers. 'Talk to me.'

She swallowed, and from somewhere found her voice. 'I just took a phone call from Beecher. He..they...the CIA...they've identified the suicide bomber. The one who..who...'

She felt him tense. 'The one who killed Catherine and 14 other passengers. Go on.'

He was a 19 year old Palestinian called Salam Zuhri, a Chemistry student at Tel Aviv University. He had no known affiliations with any terrorist organisations or splinter cells or political groups.'

Harry blinked. 'What? How can they be sure? Half the time we don't even know these groups exist until they do something like this.'

'They're sure, Harry. They're sure. They've been as 'thorough' as only the CIA can be and given that three Americans were killed in the blast, if there was something to find, they'd find it.'

Harry gazed at her, perplexed. 'Then why...? What was he hoping to achieve?'

'According to his parents, the previous week he'd split up with his girlfriend, an Israeli woman on his course. She was his first serious girlfriend and by all accounts he was totally besotted. He took it badly.'

'Bit of an understatement.'

'Sorry. But the internet, and the knowledge he'd gleaned from his course were all he needed to create what was a fairly rudimentary bomb. He had no prior, not even a parking ticket, so he wasn't being monitored, nothing was picked up. He locked himself away in his room and his parents just thought he was upset and left him to it.'

Wordlessly he went over and leaned, head bowed, palms down, against his desk. He forced himself to breathe. 'So what you're saying,' he said heavily, 'is that my daughter was killed by some lovesick teenager?'

'It seems so.'

'Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is that supposed to give me closure, or whatever Beecher and his compatriots call it?'

Ruth spread her hands helplessly. 'I don't know. But it does end it in a way. There's no group to infiltrate, no cause to fight, no justice to be done. No questions unanswered. Catherine was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'So her death was just utterly bloody pointless.' Ruth's hands were on his back, on his shoulder, guiding him into her arms. He held her, too drained to speak, his mind in turmoil. He'd been expecting, he'd been ready for, intel about some obscure little tinpot organisation that thought it was going to change the world but all it boiled down to was some homicidal geeky bloody Romeo sucking all the life and light out of his and Jane's world and those of a number of other innocent Israeli and American civilians. He was dimly aware of Ruth disentangling herself, switching off his pc, getting his coat from the stand.

She took his hand. 'Come on. Time to go home. We can slum it on the bus.'

He hesitated. 'I need to call her mother.'

'Tomorrow, Harry.' Her voice was insistent. He nodded, conceding defeat, and together they headed out to the pods.

Autumn had barely begun, yet the damp chill in the air warned of a winter not too far behind. Ruth, clad only in a raincoat over a cotton skirt and blouse, shivered. He put his arm round her shoulder, pulling her to him, feeling his heart give a little joyous kick as her arm curled round his waist. They crossed the road and headed for the bus stop, Harry oblivious to everything around them, their conversation of a few minutes looping round his head. How long they had to wait for the bus, he had no idea. The next thing he knew they were sitting on the top deck, Ruth's head against his shoulder, bumping the circuitous route towards her house. His head lolling against the glass he gazed out of the window as the streetlights, the gaudy shop windows, the shouts, the laughter, the growls of the traffic, drifted past. Something brought him out of his reverie. 'I thought we were going back to mine,' he said, to nobody in particular. Ruth squeezed his hand. 'No, Scarlet's at mine, remember? And I'm not leaving you on your own tonight.'

'I'm fine.'

'You're a million miles from fine. Harry, your daughter just died. You spent a few days in Israel for the funeral and since you got back it's just been business as usual. Well, nearly as usual.'

A faint smile flitted across his face.

'My point is, you've never allowed yourself time to grieve. You've just battened down the hatches and all but pretended it never happened. Something's going to give, Harry. It's got to. And this news about Zuhri...in a way I think it's the worst outcome possible, because it seemed to me that getting justice for Catherine was what was keeping you going, and now...'

Harry rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. 'I told you. I'm fine.' The concern in Ruth's eyes was too much for him to bear. He let his head loll against the glass once more and the sights and sounds of the city merged into a kaleidoscopic blur.

When they got in he was mildly amused to see Scarlet make a bigger fuss of Ruth than she did of him; Fidget of course ignored them both. He picked up Scarlet's lead from the table in the hall. 'Why don't you put the dinner on and I'll take madam out for half an hour.'

'You sure?'

'Ruth, I'm perfectly capable of walking my own dog.' His tone was sharper than he'd intended. 'I'm sorry. Didn't mean to...' He kissed her, for just a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and managing to get hold of a zebedeeing Scarlet just long enough to put her lead on, let himself back out into the damp October night.

They were barely round the corner when a prolonged pause at a particularly enticing gatepost made up Harry's mind for him. 'If we're here for the duration I might as well put the time to good use, eh?' As Scarlet dutifully wagged a preoccupied tail he pulled out his mobile and hit speed dial.

'Alton? Harry Pearce. Can we meet?'


	2. Chapter 2

Voicemail. Ruth sighed. 'Harry, it's me. Where are you? You said you'd be half an hour and it's over an hour now. I'm not doing the nagging wife bit, it's just that dinner's ready and I'm starving. I hope you're on your way back. Or...call me.'

* * *

As Harry listened to the message his phone beeped repeatedly to signal incoming texts.

_Your dinner is in the cat._

_You don't deserve it but I'm in bed and wearing the nightie you bought me._

_Just me and the rabbit then._

He groaned.

'Problem?' Beecher eased the car out into the traffic.

'I took Scarlet out for half an hour. About three hours ago.'

'Ouch.' Beecher nodded towards the mobile. 'Ruth?'

'Yes.' Harry frowned. Why on earth had he told him? Ruth was adamant it wasn't to be public knowledge.

Beecher nodded. 'I'd heard you two were a bit of an item.'

Harry glared at him. 'I wish the CIA was as clued up on Middle Eastern affairs as it is on the love lives of MI5 operatives...'

'Okay, okay; chill, Harry. Don't get your boxers in a bind. Ruth's lovely. I hope things work out for you both.'

'Thank you. And yes, she is.'

Beecher dropped them off a couple of blocks from Ruth's house and thankfully Scarlet was content to trot home. With a pang Harry realised that she was probably starving, and hoped that Fidget had left her some of his dinner.

There were no lights in the windows, and the house was in darkness. Harry let the dog into the kitchen and was relieved to see what he hoped hadn't been his dinner in her bowl. Doing his best to avoid the creaking floorboards he made his way upstairs, washing and undressing in the bathroom then, feeling an optimism that he conceded was probably misplaced, padding naked into the bedroom.

As he reached the bed it registered that three quarters of the duvet was wrapped round Ruth. Well, he'd just have to snuggle up, wouldn't he?

'Ruth?' he ventured, trying to manoeuvre some of the duvet his way.

The response was a barely audible, but very definite snore.

* * *

The following morning he was up and on his way to Westminster before Ruth had even wakened. Was it to avoid an argument about the night before? About his extended absence? About meeting Beecher? He wasn't sure. But in his defence, showing a consideration he'd rarely bestowed on Jane, he'd left her a note on the kitchen counter.

_Sorry about last night, will explain later. Also sorry to dash off: meeting with Towers then JIC. Should be in the Grid after lunch. Suspect liquid variety will be required._

_See you later._

_Hx_

_PS Texts re negligible negligees most welcome_

At 7am the Today programme brought Ruth blearily to. A well-practised arm flopped from under the duvet onto the snooze button and shortly after a tousled head emerged from the duvet.

'Harry?' She reached for him, and her fingers closed on the cold morning air. Her eyes fluttered open. The pillow beside her bore the imprint of his head, and she could smell the faint tang of his aftershave, but the sheet beneath her hand was already cool. 'Harry?' she called, louder this time. As the bedroom door nudged open she felt her heart lift, only for it to sink again as a small hairy nose appeared, and Scarlet bounded across the room towards her. Ruth patted the duvet. 'Up you come. But don't tell your dad, eh?'

She lay there for a minute, savouring the warm body ecstatically wriggling and licking and finally curling up contentedly on the duvet beside her. Unbidden, thoughts of the previous night crept into her unconscious. She'd been annoyed with Harry, and worried, and frustrated, and yet she knew only too well that a social life, a family life, and MI5 were pretty much incompatible and anything other than the most short term plans just invited disappointment. Was she just going to have to get used to him disappearing without a word for hours on end? She hugged her knees through the duvet as the unwelcome thought occurred to her that she really didn't want that, yet she was pretty sure that Harry would run a mile from a shrew who tried to keep tabs on his every move.

She leaned forward and scratched the top of Scarlet's back leg, smiling as it pedalled madly in reflex. 'Come on then, let's get this day on the road.'

* * *

The morning was uneventful. Reading through intel on a possible Al-Qaeda cell in Bradford, monitoring comms traffic, searching the databases to see if a new diplomat at the Chinese Embassy really was who they claimed. It was nearly two when Harry strode in. 'Beth, Tariq, Dimitri, meeting room now!' he barked. Rather taken aback at her exclusion Ruth forced herself not to speculate on possible reasons and carried on scrolling through the records. After twenty minutes the three of them re-emerged.

'Ruth!' Dimitri called, and when she looked up he beckoned into the room behind him.

Harry was standing at the far side, his back to her. Fighting the urge to go over to him and put her arms round him and tell him how much she'd missed him last night, and where had he got to, anyway? she sat in the nearest chair and waited.

'I'm sending you back to GCHQ.'

He turned just in time to see the look of horror on her face before she composed felt a stab of guilt as her eyes remained on the table in front of her.'Please don't.' Her tone was neutral, but he knew the effort it would have taken to make it so. 'I love it here, Harry, and I've done a good job. You know I have. And god knows it hasn't been easy sometimes, with everything we've been through. But GCHQ...the thought of going back there...it just makes my soul shrivel.'

He opened his mouth to speak.

'Is this because of us?' she butted in, finally raising her eyes, hurt and angry, to his.

'Woah,' he held up his on the table beside her he closed his hand round hers. 'It's undercover. You said you wanted more fieldwork, and while I must admit I'm not happy about this I can't deny you're the best candidate. You've worked there before...'

'Eight years ago! I think things might have moved on just a tad since then!'

'Even so. The processes and procedures and a lot of the faces will be familiar to you, so you'll be able to hit the ground running.'

She pulled her hand out of his. 'Beth or Dimitri would be more than capable...'

'I haven't even told you what's involved yet..'

'And pretty much the only time we have together is at work. If I go back to Cheltenham, when are we going to see each other? Or,' she sat back in her chair, her face suddenly drained of colour, 'is that the point? Is this your cowardly way of finishing it?'

'Oh, for god's sake, Ruth!' Exasperated, he levered himself off the table and began to pace the stretch of carpet behind her. He pushed away the thought that life was much easier when he'd asked her to do things and she'd simply said 'yes, Harry,' and got on with it.

'I've loved you for years and even if we haven't quite got the hang of...of us, yet, I would rather chew my arm off than lose you.'

'Then why?'

'For all the reasons I've said. And...Look, we think they've got a mole, and we need you to flush him or her out. Tell me that kind of thing isn't right up your street, hm?'

Ruth said nothing.

'You only need to be there as long as it takes you to work out who it is and prove it.'

Silence.

'So I said you'd start on Monday.'

'I wasn't aware they were recruiting.'

'Hmmm?'

'If they're not recruiting, how do we explain my presence there?'

Harry stopped pacing. 'Ah.'

'Harry?'

He took a deep breath. 'The cover story is that we've begun seeing each other and it's proving...well, I decided that it would be best if we didn't work together any more and so arranged a transfer.'

Ruth's hand fluttered to her throat. 'So despite what I asked of you, you have in effect outed us to Whitehall and the entire British Intelligence Service?'

'It's totally plausible. The more so because it's true.'

Without a word, Ruth pushed back her chair and walked out, her face unreadable.

Dejected, Harry watched her go. 'I don't think even Belgian chocolates will get you out of this one, old son,' he muttered.


	3. Chapter 3

He'd read as far as page 7 when he realised he hadn't taken in a single sentence of the report. Pushing the file away from him with a sigh he stared out at the Grid. Beth must have sensed him looking for she looked up, her expression one of barely masked contempt. Shaken, he was unable to stop his eyes flitting towards Ruth's desk. There was no dark head visible above the computer screen. Her desk lamp was off. His eyes flitted towards the rack. Her coat was gone. Well. Not very professional when he was sure her in tray was overflowing and she had to get it cleared by the end of the week. His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. Glancing at the display he picked up the handset.

'Yes, Kate? Okay, ask her to wait , I'll be right down.'

Harry paused mid stride as he crossed the lobby. Thankfully he saw her before she saw him and he had a moment to appreciate what was undeniably a beautiful woman, more so because she didn't realise it. She was small, dark, yet with the radiant complexion of an English rose, and her unfashionably hour glass figure reminded him uncomfortably of how much weight Ruth had lost since Cyprus. 'Jenna Preston?' She turned and gave him a stomach-flipping smile. 'Sir Harry? Hello.'

Her eyes were quite extraordinary. Almost violet. Harry took a deep breath and offered his hand. 'Welcome to the team; lovely to have you. Shall we go up?'

As the lift glided up to the Grid the twenty seven year old version of him wondered what on earth Six were thinking of letting her go on secondment. The fifty seven year old version of him wondered whether Dimitri or Tariq were in with a chance. God knows, if they didn't give it their best shot they wanted their bumps felt. What Ruth's reaction might be to her replacement didn't so much as cross his mind.

Back in the Grid, he considered summoning them all into the meeting room, but given that all the heads swivelled the minute she emerged from the pod that seemed unnecessarily formal. 'Everybody! This is Jenna Preston; she starts here next week. She'll be covering Ruth's station and reporting directly to me. Beth, can you do the housekeeping please. I'll leave you all to introduce yourselves. As you were.' There was a stunned silence, but then to his amusement he heard Dimitri introducing himself, swiftly followed by Tariq.

When he next looked up from the pile of papers he was alone in the Grid. He glanced at his watch. Nearly 8 o'clock. He was hungry, he was tired, he wanted Ruth, but more than that he wanted not to face her anger, her accusations, her despair. Would she even want to see him? He doubted it. He eyed the sofa against the far wall with little enthusiasm. He'd spent the night on it more times than he cared to count, surprisingly restful nights. But it wasn't his bed and Ruth wasn't lying on it waiting for him, a seductive smile playing about her lips, her eyes drowsy with lust. He screwed his own eyes shut as if that would erase the mental image. Now just wasn't the time.

'Harry?'

God, he was getting slack. He hadn't heard the pod, hadn't heard her cross the Grid. Yet here she was, standing in his office, pale and nervous, clutching what looked like Chinese takeaway and a six pack of Becks. Her eyes met his, and she gave a tentative smile. 'I...' she started to explain, but he was on his feet, his fingertips to her lips, shushing her. He took the bags from her and placed them on his desk then gently, his eyes asking for forgiveness already granted, he pulled her into his arms.

* * *

'Sorry about your shirt.'

He grinned into her hair. 'Don't worry about it. I keep a stash here for such eventualities.'

She flopped the back of her hand against his chest in a mock slap. 'We should make sure we find all the buttons before we leave though. To lose one button may be regarded as a misfortune. To lose..five...looks like carelessness. And sod's law, Tariq would find them and have a field day.'

'Talking of carelessness, we should've put the beer in the fridge. And god knows what the Chinese will be like.'

'We can heat it up in the microwave in the kitchen.'

Harry grimaced. 'That way lies 24 hours with your backside on the loo and your head in the basin. Come on, we'll get a taxi and find a 24 hour supermarket.'

They dressed, and while Harry went to the kitchen to dispose of the takeaway, Ruth remotely erased the CCTV tapes from 5 minutes before her arrival. Harry had grumbled, asking her if she could make a copy first and she'd been aghast, yet here she was playing it from where she marked the start of the deletion rather than fast forwarding it. Even still, she kept her eyes resolutely focused on Harry, her breath catching as she saw his face soften as he looked at her, his love for her so obvious. She reminded herself that he was getting his end away so of course he was going to look like a right soppy sod, but couldn't prevent a little smile of triumph.

* * *

It wasn't til they got back to hers and were waiting for the microwave to ping that she asked him about the previous night. Briefly he considered fabricating a story about Scarlet slipping her lead and running off, then opted for honesty. 'I met up with Beecher.'

Ruth looked up. 'Beecher?'

'I needed to hear it from him. About what happened to Catherine.'

'You didn't believe me?'

''Of course I did. But if we thought it was just the Zuhri kid working alone we would withdraw from the fray, wouldn't we, leaving the CIA a clear field in the investigation. I was pretty sure that if I heard it from him I would know whether or not he was telling me the truth.'

'Do you think he was?'

Harry nodded. I asked Six to do a covert check and they confirmed he was just your average geeky teenage student, not remotely radicalised.' He sighed. 'I also thought it was a bit suss that he'd asked you to pass on the news rather than talking directly to me; I assumed it was because he thought the subject matter would switch off your scepticism filters and you'd be less likely to doubt him.' He gave a rueful smile. "Turns out he thought I should hear the news from someone who cared about me rather than some damn yankee.'

'Oh Harry.' As she snuggled into him the significance of his words dawned. 'Someone who cared about me? You'd told Beecher?'

'No, he'd guessed.' He took a deep breath. 'Ruth, I am sorry about the whole GCHQ thing, but for all Dimitri and Beth are very capable, they don't exactly fit the profile of GCHQ operatives. They'd stick out like sore thumbs and arouse suspicion from the outset.'

'They're as capable of acting a part as anyone.'

'Yes, but it's a difficult enough job to do without having to pretend you're someone you're not. Anyway, you wanted to do more fieldwork, so here it is. Nobody gets to pick and choose, Ruth.'

'Okay, okay,' she held up her hands in defeat. 'Let's not talk about it anymore. I don't want to ruin what little time we have left together.'

Harry swallowed an exasperated retort, and picking up the bottle of wine and the glasses, followed her through to the dining room.

* * *

The following day was of the kind that made Harry wonder why he'd ever agreed to move to MI5. An imminent visit from the Russian Premier had necessitated hours of meetings with the Home Secretary, the Joint Intelligence Committee and the Met, and his sour mood was not helped when he returned to the Grid late afternoon to find Ruth's station deserted.

Dimitri saw him glance over. 'She's here somewhere. Tying up loose ends.'

Harry nodded, then headed for his office and poured a large whisky. As he slumped into his chair it dawned on him that he'd still not phoned Jane. He groaned. "Ohhh, this day just keeps getting better and better.'

* * *

'So how did she take it?'

'I don't think she cared, particularly. Once she knew that it was quick, and Catherine hadn't suffered, nothing else mattered but the fact that she was dead. The whos and the whys were irrelevant.'

Ruth pursed her lips, unsure whether she would have felt the same or not. 'Has she managed to get in touch with Graham?'

Harry shook his head. They were at Ruth's, the late evening proving much more pleasant than the rest of the day had been. She was in her pyjamas, half watching Desperate Housewives, he was sprawled the rest of the length of the sofa, his head in her lap, drowsy and replete. He was wondering if life got any better than this. She was wondering if he was ever going to tell her that he'd hired some glamour puss from Six to replace her.

'Harry,' she began.

'Mmm.' At the back of his head alarm bells began to ring. This tone of voice he knew. Mentally he scrolled through the list of all his possible crimes and misdemeanours. It didn't take him too long to get to 'J'.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all so much for all the lovely reviews, I really appreciate them and they do encourage me to keep going!**

They lay, bodies entwined, not speaking, watching through the hotel window as the grey autumn light slowly seeped out of the sky. Ruth was trying to be positive and upbeat about the weeks ahead but her bright chatter earlier as she packed a holdall full of books then a suitcase of clothes and toiletries served only to reinforce to Harry just how much she was dreading it. He'd done his best; he'd cleared his diary for the weekend, gone to her leaving do on the Friday night (albeit slightly late), and on Saturday they'd spent the morning at the V+A, had afternoon tea at the Ritz, seen Les Mis from the best seats in the house, and dined at the Ivy. And then, when the waiter had cleared their dessert plates he had presented her with a diamond bracelet he'd gone to Bond Street on Friday afternoon to buy. It had cost him more than a month's salary but the look on her face when she opened the box had been worth it. Then she'd started fretting because she hadn't bought him anything. He smiled at the memory. For once, he'd got it right; he'd told her she'd already given him everything he wanted, and recited a poem that had once been Catherine's English homework and had stayed with him ever since:

_i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere  
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing, my darling)  
i fear  
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want  
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you  
here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)_

He'd sat across from her in the restaurant and watched her eyes fill with tears as he spoke, and her hand had reached for his and she'd given him an abashed, dimpled smile which had made his heart melt. 'You are beautiful,' he'd told her. And he'd felt so proud he thought he'd burst. And now they stood on a windswept, deserted railway station platform and she was cupping his head in her hands and kissing him gently, tenderly, like she had the first time. As then, she broke the kiss, But this time, she whispered 'See you soon, Harry Pearce,' and his heart lifted just a little.

* * *

'Sir Harry?'

'Hmm? Oh, Jenna. Come in. Sorry, I was a million miles away.'

'You asked me to come and see you as soon as I got in?'

'I did indeed. And please, it's Harry.' He suppressed a smile as he noticed she was clutching a notepad and pen. 'Have a seat.'

Harry cleared his throat. 'I have a project that I'd like you to work on for me, strictly on a need to know basis. And the people that need to know are you and me. In other words, you don't discuss what you're doing with anyone else here or in any other agency. Understood?'

Jenna nodded.

Harry pushed a slim manilla file across the desk towards her. 'I want you to find this man. All the information we currently have on him is in here. If you speak to Tariq he'll show you how to check all the CCTV footage, databases and what have you, and he'll sort you out with any gadgets that you might need. Mikes, tracking devices, that sort of thing. Oh, and...' he retrieved a plastic wallet from his desk drawer, 'this is your legend. You may well need to go undercover on this one.'

Jenna's rabbit in the headlights look was a bit disconcerting.

'Do you have any questions?'

She blew out her cheeks. 'I don't know, really. I've never done anything like this before.'

Harry leaned towards her with what he hoped was a reassuring air. 'I'm sure you'll be fine. I know you've only been out of training a couple of months, so don't worry, national security isn't exactly at stake with this one and it should just be a question of checking things out and following leads. I'm not sending you out to get shot; we have Dimitri for that.' His chuckle died as he saw the look of consternation on her face. 'That was a joke.'

She blushed. 'Sorry. What do I say to the others if they ask what I'm working on, or give me other work to do?'

'Say you're working for me. If they quibble, tell them to speak to me. Now, we're going to be flat out over the next few days with the State visit, so just update me when you have something concrete, okay?'

'Yes. Thank you.' And scooping up the wallet and the file she headed back to Ruth's desk.

* * *

'Shouldn't Jenna be here?'

'Hmm?' Dimitri's voice snapped Harry out of his reverie.

'Well, it's our team meeting and she is part of the team now.'

Harry shook his head. 'No, she's working on something for me; she won't be getting involved in day to day operational matters.'

'What, not at all? I thought she was supposed to be covering Ruth's duties?'

Harry decided to let Beth's tone pass. 'Not for the time being. Now, Dimitri, what's the latest on the Chechens?'

* * *

It seemed that some things did change. Far from being the stereotypical middle aged, Home Counties, Oxbridge educated stuffed shirt, Ruth's new boss was a rather gorgeous thirty-something Scot by the name of Adam Harris. A former rugby player for Galashiels, he was six foot three, had a physique that wouldn't have disgraced the Calvin Klein catwalk, and a face that, although it bore the scars of his rugby playing days, would turn male and female heads alike. He was also very married. Ruth couldn't help but notice the black and white portrait of three teenagers, two of them twins, on his office wall. He saw her looking and smiled. 'Rory and Calum are 17, Lucy's 15. My wife took that during our holiday on Arran a couple of months ago.'

'They're yours? You don't look old enough.'

He grinned. 'God knows, they've done their best to age me. No, their mother and I married when we were eighteen, and much to everybody's surprise we're still going strong.'

'That's lovely. Congratulations.'

'Mm, bit of a miracle in this business, isn't it? And talking of business, we should probably get down to it. Please, have a seat.'

* * *

Weighed down with reports that Adam had given her to read and summarise, Ruth decided to make a cup of tea before she started. As she approached the kitchen, voices drifted out through the open door. She stopped.

'So who's the new woman then?'

'Ruth Evershed. She's been seconded from Counter Terrorism at Five. Very capable apparently, but she got caught shagging her boss so they moved her out of the way.'

'Bloody hell. Then again they are rather an incestuous bunch, aren't they?'

'Probably because nobody else will have them.'

_Laughter._

'Who's the boss, do you know?'

'Harry Pearce.'

'Ha! Some things never change. That one joined from the army and from what I hear he never lost the squaddie mentality. He screwed his way to the Middle East and back again; anything in a skirt's fair game as far as he's concerned.'

The kettle clicked off, and Ruth could hear mugs being filled.

'Can't quite see what the attraction is myself,' the woman continued, 'but he's done okay out of it; a knighthood in the bag and he's bound to get DG eventually.'

'Whereas she gets shunted out to the sticks. Plus ça change, eh?'

Her face burning, Ruth considered confronting them, but the last thing she wanted to do was make waves, particularly on her first day. Clutching the reports to her she turned and retraced her steps along the corridor to the office.

**Usual disclaimers apply. The poem is**_ I Carry Your Heart With Me_** by e e Cummings.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks, or the characters. Sorry, this isn't angsty or fluffy and I really want to rewrite the end to 9.7, but I need to see where this goes first!**

* * *

**Eight days later**

'Harry! Do come in.' Towers stood at the window, jacketless and with his sleeves rolled up, for all the world as if he were gearing up for a fight.

Tired and cranky with the beginnings of a cold, Harry hadn't appreciated the 8pm summons, especially as he hadn't been able to get hold of Ruth all day. Keeping his coat on, he perched on the edge of the chair, hoping the buffoon would take the hint.

'Well, that all went very well, didn't it? Lots of fluff for the media, useful contacts made, possibly some contracts in the offing...and no nasty hiccups. Jolly good show.'

'Well, that's more a reflection of several weeks of sterling work by the services involved than impromptu beneficence on the part of the myriad Eastern European terrorist groups.'

'Quite, quite. But the Russians gave me a crate of quite excellent vodka by way of thanks. Care to join me?'

'No, thank you. Not really my tipple.'

Towers' eyebrows registered regret, and he poured himself a measure enough for the two of them. Leaning back in his seat with an expansive sigh, he regarded the hunched form in front of him.

'So, how is Ms Evershed getting on in Gloucestershire?'

Harry pursed his lips. 'Nothing to report as yet, but at least there have been no further leaks.'

'Cause and effect, do you think?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Do you think our mole is suspicious of the lovely Ruth and has curtailed his or her nefarious activities?'

Harry bristled at the familiarity. 'Unlikely. Possible, but unlikely. They were probably just keeping their head down in the light of the higher security level prior to the Russian visit.'

'Mm. Could be, could be. I trust Ms Preston is giving no cause for complaint?'

'Frankly I think the male contingent of Section D would let her away with murder. But yes, she's doing fine.' Harry thought it prudent not to mention that he hadn't seen her for the past three days.

'Splendid. Well, keep me posted, hm?'

This was his cue for departure. 'Of course. Good night, Home Secretary.'

As he climbed into the waiting car, Harry tried Ruth's mobile again.

'Hey.'

'Hey you.'

'How are things?'

'Oh, I'm just leaving the Commons; a meeting with Towers. He's full of the joys cos the Russians gave him a crate of vodka as a thank you present for the state visit.'

'Let's hope it's of the anti-freeze variety.'

Harry laughed. 'How's your day been? Anything of interest come to light?'

'Work-wise, no; but I just joined the local choir! It's all Christmas carols though, not Mozart's Requiem.'

As the car pulled away from the kerb, her voice as a magic balm unknotted his shoulders, unfurrowed his brow, and the trials of his day slowly ebbed away.

* * *

He had just drifted off to sleep when his phone rang. He lay still for a moment, dazedly getting his bearings, then picked up his phone.

'Harry Pearce.'

'Harry, this is Jenna Preston...from work? Sorry, I know it's late but you did ask me to let you know whenever I had something concrete.'

He sat up, propping his thumping head on his hand. 'It's fine, Jenna. What have you got?'

'I think I've found him.'

'...you think?'

'No, I've definitely found him. Definitely.'

'Okay.' Harry's mouth was suddenly dry. 'Can you send me a photo? I need to be sure.'

'Yes, I'll send the still from the CCTV...hang on.'

His phone beeped. Almost in slow motion, Harry moved it from his ear and stared at the screen.

'Dear God,' he whispered.

* * *

Dimitri was surprised to see he was first in the Grid for once. Then again, Harry had obviously been a bit under the weather the previous day; maybe he was having a day off. His first coffee of the day in front of him, Dimitri checked his emails. Half way down the screen, a familiar name caught his eye. He double clicked on the subject line.

_From: Harry Pearce_

_Subject: Leave_

_Apologies for the lack of notice but I am taking a few days' leave, and will be incommunicado._

_Malcolm Wynn-Jones will be Head of Section D in my absence._

'Malcolm?'

_Be good. And if you can't be good, don't get caught._

_Harry_

Dimitri swore under his breath.

'Problem, Mr Levendis?'

He spun round. Malcolm Wynn-Jones stood behind him, wearing what looked suspiciously like a brand new suit.

'N-no. Just surprised at Harry taking off without saying anything.'

Malcolm eyed him speculatively. 'I'll be in my office.' Not bothering to suppress a smirk Malcolm strode off into Harry's room and settled himself with a satisfied sigh into the leather chair. When Beth walked in a few seconds later, he was adjusting the monitor, the keyboard, the in tray and the desk lamp with a look of the utter contentment on his face. Agape, she hiked a thumb at the window and raised an eyebrow at Dimitri, who was watching Malcolm's adjustments with something approaching a look of horror on his face.

'What the hell's the old guy playing at? Doesn't he know what Harry's like first thing in the morning? How proprietorial he is about that bloody office?'

' "The old guy" is in charge. Harry's buggered off and handed him the reins.'

'What? Buggered off? What are you talking about?'

'Check your emails.' Dimitri took a long slug of coffee and decided his to do list needing re-prioritising. 'Right, I'm off out. Got to calm down a twitchy asset. See you later.'

Beth's phone beeped. The display read 'Harry'. She looked up. Malcolm was looking pointedly at her through Harry's window, holding the phone with one hand and gesturing at it with the other. She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

In Cheltenham, Ruth was considering phoning in sick. She felt tired and nauseous; obviously one of those change of season bugs. Had she been in the Grid she would have brushed it off, mind over matter and all that; but here...frankly the prospect of a day free of knowing looks and conversations cut short would be welcome. But what on earth had she done with her mobile? She dialled it from the bedside phone, and the Nokia beep trilled from the direction of the wardrobe. Retrieving it from her coat pocket, the display showed an envelope icon and 'Harry'. She clicked it open.

_Going dark. Have told Grid am on leave. Don't worry. Love you. Hxx_


	6. Chapter 6

Ruth felt a flutter of panic. What on earth? Not for the first time her professional instincts battled with her personal ones as she fought the urge to call him to check that he was okay. Not that that would achieve anything; by now he would have left all vestiges of Harry Pearce behind.

* * *

Over two hundred miles away, Harry sat slumped at a table in motorway services, cradling a coffee against his chest. At least, he thought, as his body was racked yet again by a violent cough, his obvious malaise was making people keep their distance.

Pushing away wistful thoughts of his bed he finished his bacon roll, downed the last of his coffee and went in search of some painkillers. Ten minutes later, back in the car and suitably doped up, he phoned Jenna.

'Tess McGill.'

'Hi, it's me. I'm just about to leave Durham; I should be there in three hours or so.'

'Sounds like you should be in your bed. Are you okay?'

'I think I'll live. Any visuals?'

'Face matching hasn't pulled up anything else. I've been hanging around likely haunts in the city centre but nothing so far. I'm beginning to think I might need to venture out to the suburbs, as if he's living here that's where he's likely to be.'

Harry sighed. 'Or perhaps he was just passing through and he's hundreds of miles away.'

'No, I have a good feeling about this. And if he's here, we'll find him.'

A wave of tiredness suddenly hit him. With thumb and forefinger he rubbed his burning eyes. 'I hope you're right. Anyway, I'd best get going. I'll call you when I'm sorted out with a B&B.'

* * *

As he turned off the Sheriffhall roundabout the haar had cleared revealing a beautiful day. Despite the misery of his worsening cold and his apprehension about what might lay ahead he felt his spirits lift. Suspecting his sat nav might direct him off the top of Arthur's Seat he switched it off and followed the road signs towards the city centre. As he reached Dalkeith Road, memories came flooding back of a long weekend he and Jane had spent in the city, the weekend that Catherine had been conceived. He'd had plans for four days of long-overdue sex and sampling single malts in their natural habitat; Jane, as it turned out, intended to empty his wallet on tickets for obscure ballets and incomprehensible plays viewed largely from behind pillars in cramped, airless halls. On the Sunday night, frustrated beyond measure, he'd had to ply her with copious quantities of red wine and all but beg, and finally, as if bestowing an undeserved favour, she'd given him a perfunctory blow job and then lain back and thought of England. His knuckles tightened imperceptibly on the steering wheel as he thought of how much he and Jane had missed out on and wondered if things might have turned out differently had they at least been compatible in bed. As it was, she'd viewed sex as a chore and he'd spent the best years of his life thinking all he was capable of was sex by numbers. Even in the heady early days of his affair with Juliet it had been just a physical release for them both; there had been none of the emotional or physical intimacy he now had with Ruth, none of the joy and fun of a journey shared. It had simply been a means to an end.

As the traffic got heavier he dragged his thoughts back to the present and glanced at the google map propped up on the dashboard. Left ahead. He skirted the Meadows and turned left again into Tollcross. Seconds later, he was pulling up outside the first B+B on the list. As expected, it being the end of October, the neon sign in the window flashed 'VACANCIES.' Getting his holdall out of the boot he went inside. A bell tinkled above the glass door. He waited. 'Hello?' he called. He heard movement above his head, then footsteps on the stairs, and a small, bald, middle aged man appeared, clad in a crumpled linen shirt, worn black cords and a pair of bright blue winklepickers.

He gave Harry a big gap-toothed smile. 'Hello, would you be looking for a room?'

'Please. A double. For five nights, if possible.' Harry winced. His voice was going fast.

'Certainly.' He held out his hand. 'Redouane Berrada. You don't seem too well, my friend. Perhaps I could arrange a hot toddy for you?'

Harry shook it. 'Julian Craster. Actually, that would be great.'

Berrada nodded. 'But the paperwork first, yes?'

* * *

The room was small, and had probably not been redecorated in decades, but it was clean and comfortable. Harry tossed his holdall onto the room's only chair and started a bath. As he waited for the tub to fill he called Jenna. Voicemail.

'Tess, it's Julian. I'll meet you at 3 at the foot of the Scott Monument.'

As he hung up, there was a knock on the door. Harry opened it to reveal Berrada holding a glass of the most bizarre looking whisky he'd ever seen. He chuckled at Harry's evident disquiet. 'Ah, Mr Craster, this will have you tip top in no time. Lagavulin, ginger, lemon juice and cloves. It is a wonder, I assure you!'

Harry, aghast at the waste of a good malt, thanked him, and the little man hurried off, promising him a speedy recovery over his departing shoulder.

Putting the glass on the windowsill, Harry stripped and headed back to the bathroom. Obviously the boiler was as old as the decor, as the bath was nearly full and the room swathed in steam. He turned off the tap and tested the water: just bearable, and hopefully hot enough to sweat the worst of the cold out of him. Gingerly he eased himself in, swearing softly with each inch, and sweat began to trickle from every reddening pore. "Kill or cure, Harry, don't be a wimp,' he muttered.

When the water had cooled sufficiently for moving about to not seem unduly masochistic, he soaped himself down, noticing absently how vivid and angry his scars seemed against his burning skin. Ruth had been shaken by the number of them, and she'd told him of her tears for him the day Tom shot him, and how everyone in the Grid had assumed she was grieving for Tom. Harry hadn't been all that surprised. Tom invariably had an effect on the ladies, whereas good old Harry Pearce was always rather under the radar.

_'Why didn't you tell me?' he'd asked. 'Why didn't you just bribe the nurse to give me a note saying that you loved me rather than sending me coded messages about the bloody Grid?'_

_Ruth had caressed his nipple in a rather distracting manner while she considered. 'I don't know,' she said finally. 'It took me a while to realise that I had fallen for you hook, line, sinker and bloody rod, and you'd never given the slightest indication that you were interested in me...apart from that night I phoned you at home and asked you to come round, and you sounded disappointed when I said I wanted you to meet someone.'_

_He grinned. 'I remember. For all of two and a half seconds I thought my luck was in.'_

_'And I busied about making tea so that you couldn't see what a tizz I was in having you in my house in the middle of the night, mere feet from my bed.'_

_'Christ, if I'd known that I'd've booted Hicks out and let Woodring's goons do their worst.'_

_Ruth laughed. 'So now I know, but then...I was having a hard time coping with my feelings for you, and I didn't know how much of what I felt was just because of the emotional intensity of the job we do. And on top of that I thought that if I told you you would regard it as some sort of schoolgirl crush and pat me on the head and say 'there, there' or you would see me as a liability and dispatch me back to GCHQ.'_

_'You didn't think I might take advantage and ravish you over my desk, then?' He sounded almost disappointed._

_She smiled. 'You never struck me as someone who was into flings. I'm not saying that I didn't think you'd have sex with someone you weren't in love with, just that...'_

_'I'm too repressed?' His tone was light, but she realised that he wasn't entirely joking._

_Propping herself up on an elbow she regarded him. 'Just that you see women as more than sex objects. You see them as equals, and want a relationship of equals with someone you love completely and trust implicitly. You'd rather be on your own than have otherwise, and I think that's something you learned the hard way.' _

_Harry weaved a strand of her hair round his fingers. 'God knows I'm no angel,' he said quietly, 'and outwith work I've made more mistakes and have more regrets than any decent man should. But as soon as you walked into the Grid my heart knew that you were the missing piece of me. Problem was, my head didn't, and that's why I made such a godforsaken pig's ear of everything.' He touched his fingertips to her lips, stalling her interjection. 'On that basis perhaps it's as well you never said anything as no doubt I would have handled it abominably and driven you away for good.'_

_She had sat up then, and stroked his stubbled jawline with a sad, little smile. 'I think we're both guilty of dwelling too much on the past and beating ourselves up for doing what we thought was best at the time. Maybe we should just be focusing on the here and now and letting the future take care of itself.'_

_He reached for her. 'I think I could live with that.'_


	7. Chapter 7

**I keep forgetting the disclaimer, but I don't own Spooks. Apologies for the language, and I hope the Scots is vaguely comprehensible. Grovelling apologies too to any Leithers who may be reading...**

As he buttoned up his shirt, Harry eyed the whisky. The bath had cleared his head a bit but his throat still felt like sandpaper. There was a teaspoon beside the kettle on the chest of drawers; he fished out the cloves and took a tentative sip. The familiar warming glow coursed through him. He pursed his lips; it wasn't bad. Downing the rest in a oner, he grabbed his jacket and headed out to meet Jenna.

* * *

He was hoping the crisp, cold air would help, but by the time he reached Princes Street Gardens his legs were feeling decidedly wobbly and he was sure he was sweating more than the walk merited. It took him a moment to pick out Jenna; the ripped jeans, baggy biker jacket and DMs were a stark contrast to the pencil skirts, high heels and fitted blouses that she normally wore on the Grid. Her hair was piled haphazardly on the top of her head; a rather sexy look, Harry thought. As he sat down beside her on the bench a coughing fit overtook him. Jenna continued her people watching. 'You're in no fit state for this.'

Harry, breathing heavily, leaned forwards, trying to get more air into his lungs. 'I'll be the judge of that.'

She stood up. 'We should at least get out of the cold. Let's go get coffee and a cake and I'll bring you up to speed. The department store on the corner has a cafe on the second floor.'

He waited for a couple of minutes then followed her. The shop was a maze, with dead ends and mezzanine floors and lifts that would have given those in Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory a run for their money. He finally found her at the back of the cafe sipping a hot chocolate, a large fruit scone in front of her. 'Mind if I join you?' Thankfully, the cafe was busy, mostly with elderly ladies in twinsets and formidable hats ekeing out the afternoon over pots of tea, so his request seemed unremarkable. He put his tray of coffee and chocolate cake on the table and sat down opposite her. A battered manilla folder lay beside her elbow.

'So. How did we come to be here? Last I heard he was in Brixton.'

Jenna looked at him over the rim of her mug. 'I'm not sure, but I think he pissed off the wrong people and had the sense to get out while the going was good. This is probably far enough away for them not to bother coming after him.'

Harry toyed with his cake. 'You think?'

She shrugged. 'Bigger fish to fry.'

'Is the CCTV photo still all we have?'

'Yep.'

'When was the footage taken?'

'Four days ago.' She paused as a sneezing fit overtook him.'Harry, you should be in bed. I can carry on looking and we can meet up tomorrow when you're feeling a bit better.'

He sat back in his seat and regarded her blearily. 'Your concern is appreciated but misplaced. Where is it from, the photo?'

"Multrees Walk.'

'Isn't that full of designer shops? Gone up in the world, has he?'

'I doubt it. It's also a useful shortcut between St Andrew Square and Leith.'

'Leith. That's Trainspotting territory, isn't it?'

'Some parts have been gentrified, but other bits of it...yes, they're rough. Anyway, here's a summary of where we're at.' She slid the folder across the table to him.

'Thanks, I'll have a look later.'

Jenna nodded, distractedly.

'What's the matter?'

'I just can't help feeling that if we could make things a bit less cloak and dagger, if we could speak to the local agencies, we might get somewhere faster.'

Harry, mouth full of cake, shook his head. 'No. The more formal we make this the more likely he is to get wind...'

'But we're not exactly talking about some gangland boss with eyes and ears everywhere, and he's not been trained in counter surveillance, so how is he...'

Harry held up his hands. 'It's not a risk I want to take. Plus formal attempts have already been made, by both us and the boys in blue, and they came to naught.'

'Ok, fair enough.' Jenna watched as Harry demolished his chocolate cake then stood to go, her scone untouched. 'I'm going to head out to Niddrie while it's still light. I'll keep you posted.'

* * *

Back at the B+B, Harry leafed through Jenna's notes. For a rookie they were surprisingly comprehensive and her investigations had been comprehensive and logical. Pulling out the notepad and street map he'd bought on his way back he began making his own notes and marking areas of the map. Two hours later, eyes smarting, he had more of an idea of the task ahead and frankly he didn't fancy the odds. Leaning back against the headboard he checked his phone again for a message from Jenna. Still nothing. His thoughts drifted reluctantly to the wisdom of sending an English girl, barely out of university, undercover solo into a drug-riddled Edinburgh sink estate. He tried to convince himself that other officers had had worse baptisms of fire, and that Jenna had coped fine so far. But the doubts remained. Briefly considering then rejecting going out to get a takeaway, Harry switched on the television. Wall to wall soaps and makeover shows. Before the first advert break, he was fast asleep.

_Four days later_

It was sod's law when they had so much hi-tech gadgetry at their disposal, the stuff of sci-fi dreams, that the breakthrough was going to come through good old fashioned leg work and intuition. He was sitting in a backstreet pub in Leith, under mercifully dim lighting, nursing a rather good Guinness and keeping an eye on Jenna. In honour of the occasion she'd swapped her ripped jeans and DMs for a strip of lycra that optimistically called itself a skirt and high heels that Harry had baulked at ('I don't care what the hell they'll do to every red blooded male within 100 yards, I want you to be able to bloody run if you have to'). For the past hour she'd been flirting increasingly outrageously with a fair haired heavy, all tats and muscle, and Harry was becoming worried that she was getting in too deep. He finished his beer and headed back to the bar, hoping, as he left his glass on the counter and walked out, that she hadn't drunk too much snakebite to have her wits about her.

His fears were unfounded. A couple of minutes later she teetered out after him. 'Hey gorgeous,' she grinned, waving a cigarette at him, 'got a light?'

'Jenna...'

'Tess, if it's all the same to you.'

Harry nodded, exasperated. 'Yes, yes. Look, go easy, will you? Bruce Banner in there is thinking this evening is only going to end one way, and watching one of my officers take part in a soft porn floor show isn't really my idea of a fun Tuesday night.'

She gave him a lascivious grin. 'Are you sure?'

His face gave her all the answer she needed. 'Okay, okay. But he's invited me to a mate's party. From what he's said this could be our first in.'

Harry lolled his head back. 'Of all the parties in all the cities in all the world he just happens to be going to this one? Thanks, but I'll save my stake for the lottery. No. I can't let you go. It's too risky.'

'We've hit nothing but dead ends; our luck's got to change some time.'

'No...'

In the shadows as they were Harry didn't see her expression change as she glanced past his shoulder. He didn't see her arm pull back, but he did feel her fist connect with his jaw with surprising force. His head snapped back and he staggered.

'Fuckin' keep yer hands to yersel', you auld pervert!'

It was then he heard footsteps. His hand to his jaw and his tongue probing the inside of his mouth for any missing teeth, he turned, and saw Blondie and another guy who'd been sitting at the far end of the bar coming round the corner. Jenna skittered off towards them.

'Y'awright, doll?' Blondie.

'Aye, ah asked him for a light and the dirty auld fucker groped me.' She felt him tense. 'But ah'm awright, Ah'm awright.' Her palms stroked his chest, soothing him.

He nodded. 'Ok. C'mon, let's go. Billy...'

The rest of his sentence was unspoken, but Billy's not moving told Harry all he needed to know. He held up his hands, dropped his head. 'Sorry bud, too much to drink, and it's been too long, y'know?'

Billy moved slowly towards him. 'Ah seen youse ogling her frae the meenut she walked in. You wisnae pished then, wis ye?'

Harry considered his options. Billy was probably thirty years younger than him, with a whippet's build. Trying to outrun him was probably futile. Trying to outsmart him was probably suicidal. Trying to knock his lights out...he might be in with a snowflake's.

He could feel the heat of Billy's rank, beery breath on his face. His fingers jabbed into Harry's shoulder.

'See, when ah see ither fuckers crackin oan mah mate's burd, ah dinnae like it, ken?'

Harry shifted his balance, waiting his chance.

Billy reached out and grabbed Harry's chin. 'So why don't you fuck right off, eh? An' if I see you sniffin' roon' here again, yer fizzog will be gettin' used fur a dishrag. Ye get me?'

Harry saw his chance and drove his fist into Billy's stomach. As he doubled over, Harry followed it with an uppercut to his jaw. As Billy flailed backwards, Harry ran, only for another figure to materialise out of the shadows. 'Bad move, old son, bad move.' Before he could react, Harry felt a blow to his stomach, and tried to raise his arm to retaliate, but somehow the strength, the co-ordination, seemed to have drained out of it. He steeled himself for the next blow, only for the man to shout 'Billy! Do one!'

He was vaguely aware of running feet, of his breath rasping in his throat, of the November night suddenly feeling bitingly cold. He reached for the wall to steady himself, to help him get his breath back, and his grasping fingers closed on thin air. To his consternation he felt his knees buckle, saw the wet cobbles coming up to meet him.

Then there was nothing.


	8. Chapter 8

**On a bit of a downer after the anticlimax of 9.8, but at least series 10 has been confirmed, yay! So on we go. Usual disclaimers apply.**

**

* * *

**

'Ruth? You okay?'

Ruth looked up from the rugby tickets she'd been gazing at to see Rory, one of the clerical staff, looking at her in concern. ' Fine, thanks.' She held up the tickets: 'best laid plans, and all that!' then ripped them into several pieces and dropped them in the bin.

'The England match?' Rory winced in sympathy. 'Bummer. They'll have cost a few bob too.'

'Birthday present for my partner, but he had to work.'

'Oh well, I'm always happy to step in! Next time, give me a call,' he grinned.

Ruth gave a wan smile. 'Thanks. I'll bear that in mind.'

'Look, are you sure you're okay? You're very pale.'

'I've had a touch of something, but I'm fine, honestly.'

Not looking entirely convinced, Rory nodded and moved off.

Putting on her headphones, Ruth settled down for a morning of listening to comms traffic, but after an hour she realised she'd missed as much as she'd taken in as Harry kept nudging his way into her thoughts. These weren't the usual replays of what they'd done the previous night, or snatches of conversation or snapshots of him that she'd tried to memorise...the image of him sleeping peacefully with Scarlet snuggling into his chest...the image of him in the Grid, in his shirt sleeves, tired and dishevelled, tie askew...this was a vague sense of unease that was gnawing away at her and wouldn't be shaken off, however much she tried to rationalise things.

She picked up her mobile and went outside, hoping a change of scene and some fresh air might restore a sense of perspective. She knew she might be putting him and others at risk. She knew he would be livid at her breaching one of the most fundamental protocols. And yet...and yet...

Decision made.

Beth answered on the second ring.

'Ruth! Beach losing its appeal already? Or are you on a city break? Ohhh, don't tell me you're phoning from Paris?'

'I'm not...I'm in Cheltenham.'

'Oh...right. Sorry, I thought Harry would've whisked you off for some winter sunshine, or at least to somewhere romantic. Just plittering about at home, is he?'

'He's not on leave. He's gone dark.'

'What?'

'Beth, I know I have no reason to be, but I'm worried. Something's not right.'

'What do you mean he's gone dark? He booked leave; it was all a bit last minute, but...'

'He texted me a few days ago. He said he'd gone dark, that he'd told all of you he was on leave and not to worry.'

'Are you sure?'

'Beth!'

'Okay, okay. I just don't..okay, obviously there's a lot goes on on the Grid that we're not privy to, but surely he would've said something, or your saying this would make some things fall into place, but this is totally from left field. Surely he doesn't get involved in all that kind of stuff any more? That's what Dimitri and I are here for.'

'So you've absolutely no idea where he might be, or what he's up to?'

'Not a scooby, sorry. But Malcolm might.'

'Malcolm?'

'Yes, Harry put him in charge in his absence.'

Ruth paused, trying to marshal her thoughts. 'Didn't you think that was a bit strange? I mean, when have you ever known Harry pull in retired Technicians to deputise for him?'

'When have I ever known Harry take any time off?' responded Beth drily.

'Fair point. Look, I'm not happy. I'm really not happy. I'm coming in.'

'Are you sure that's wise? If he's gone dark you could be jeopardising god knows what.'

'That's a risk I'll have to take. Do me a favour and don't mention any of this to anyone. I'll see you later.'

'But...'

Beth sighed. The line was dead.

* * *

'No ID on him whatsoever?'

The nurse shook her head. 'I've been through all his pockets. The only personal effects is a wallet with just under £300 in it. No cards or driving licence.'

'So it looks like the motive wasn't robbery then.'

'Unless they stole something else. Like his mobile phone? It's a bit unusual in this day and age for people not to have one on them.'

'Perhaps it fell out of a pocket at the scene. I'll get one of the lads from Gayfield Square to go back and have a recce. And nobody's phoned wondering if someone matching his description has been brought in?'

'I asked Reception to let me know if they did, but nothing so far.'

'Any tattoos?'

She shook her head.

'Or distinguishing marks?'

'A few scars, but nothing that you could ID him on, I don't think. They look more Boy's Own than major surgery.'

The policeman tucked his PDA back in its wallet. 'Seems like we'll just have to hope he makes it then. How's it looking?'

'He's still in surgery. He lost a lot of blood and we've no idea how long he lay there before he was found. He was lucky with the weather though; heavy rain or a couple of degrees colder and he could've been on his way to the Cowgate right now.

The policeman grimaced. 'Well, let us know when there's any news. I need to go see if I can find any witnesses.'

The nurse raised an eyebrow. 'In Leith? Good luck with that.'

He laughed, and head bent to his chattering radio, went back out to his car.

* * *

A couple of miles away, Jenna was being bounced to voicemail. 'Hi, it's me. Just to let you know I survived the party...it's amazing what a sedative in a pint of McEwans can do. Anyway, I did a bit of name dropping here and there and it seems that Edinburgh is a pretty small place after all. A friend of a friend, kind of thing. Apparently he's a bit of a musician on the QT and sometimes plays with pub bands for beer money. Anyway, Leith seems to be the best bet, so I'll spend the day trawling round there. If you want to meet up let me know. Catch you later.'

* * *

It was early afternoon when Ruth strode into the Grid. Dimitri was sprawled back in his chair, talking animatedly on the phone. She could just make out the top of Tariq's head above his bank of computers. Of Beth there was no sign. Unusually, the blinds in Harry's office were drawn. She knocked on the door, and without waiting for a response slid it open and walked in. Malcolm sat hunched over a tangle of wires and metal and plastic, with what looked like a pair of tweezers in one hand. 'Ingenious,' he breathed.

'Malcolm?'

His head shot up. 'Ruth! My dear, how lovely to see you. But what on earth are you doing here? I thought you were in Cheltenham?'

'Not sunning myself on a beach in the Maldives or shagging Harry senseless in Paris?'

Malcolm blushed. 'I...er...'

'So you know he's gone dark, then?'

His face was expressionless. 'I know he took some leave. I wouldn't presume...'

'Oh come off it, Malcolm. How many times can you remember Harry taking annual leave full stop, let alone at the last minute? Let alone when D is without a Section Chief?'

'There's a first time for everything. And he's been through a lot lately; it's not unreasonable that he should have felt like a bit of a break.'

'Malcolm, this is Harry Pearce we're talking about. And I'm worried. I've got nothing concrete to go on, but I'm worried. Call it feminine intuition, if it makes you feel better. Please, Malcolm, you have to tell me what you know.'

'I know he went on leave for a few days and asked me to cover. That's it.'

To her dismay, Ruth felt hot tears pricking her eyes.

Malcolm's voice was gentle. 'And whatever Harry asked of me, Ruth, I'd never let him down, you know that.'

'I'm not asking you to let him down, I'm asking you to help him!'

Malcolm was on his feet, clasping her shoulders in his hands. 'Ruth, wherever he is, whatever he's doing, I'm sure he's fine.'

'If Evershed says he's not fine, then he's not fine. Whatever else, she's got good instincts.' Dimitri stood, arms folded, in the doorway.

Ruth threw him a look of gratitude.

'And I'd bet good money that whatever Harry's mixed up in, Jenna is too. It was his pet project she was working on, and we haven't seen her for nearly two weeks.'

'Dimitri...'

'Jenna? Well, have you gone through her desk, her files, traced her comms?'

'Of course.'

'Dimitri!'

'And?'

'Nada. Zilch. Zip.'

Palming away a rogue tear Ruth brushed past him. 'There has to be something. If Harry can't bury reports from the Contingent Events Committee in 1997 I'm sure some bimbo straight out of school can't cover her tracks from last week.'

Behind her back, Dimitri clawed his hands and purred softly.

Malcolm followed them out. 'I can't sanction this, you know I can't sanction this. Apart from anything else, it's totally unethical.'

'I'll take the rap for this, Malcolm. I'll say you knew nothing about it.'

'You turned up on the Grid, hacked into a colleague's computer, went through her desk, and I knew nothing about it? Just how inept do you think I am?'

Ruth smiled, like he hadn't seen her smile in a long time.

'Ok. I, er, I'll send Dimitri a list of legends Harry had me create before I retired. Checking them out might keep him out of mischief for a bit. And perhaps Tariq could do some face matching. Ooh!'

Ruth, on tiptoes, had planted a kiss on Malcolm's cheek.

Dimitri clapped his hands together. Come on then, Evershed, let's get busy.'


	9. Chapter 9

**With huge thanks to nonsenseandmischief, who provided a crash course in how this place works and saved what's left of my sanity in the process.**

* * *

Eight o'clock, and they were still no further forward. Ruth dragged her hands through her hair. 'How can the two of them just have vanished like this?' Looking up she saw Malcolm coming through the Grid towards her, coat on.

'I'm sorry Ruth, but I really do have to get home. Mother worries...'

'It's okay. Thanks for today.'

'You should go home too. I'm sure Harry wouldn't want you working your fingers to the bone like this.'

'Malcolm, this is an early night by my standards. And he never objected before.'

'That's true. Will you be in tomorrow?'

She nodded. 'I asked for the rest of the week off.'

'Okay. Well, don't overdo it. I'll see you in the morning.'

'Night.' With a deep breath Ruth tucked her hair behind her ears and steeled herself to resume her stint. She was trawling through hotel registers when she sensed Dimitri at her elbow. 'Tea?' he held up a mug.

'Thanks. And thanks for doing this. I really appreciate it.'

'No problem. I phoned out for pizza too; that should keep us going for a bit longer. It should be here any minute.'

'You're a star.' She touched his arm. 'Where's Beth, by the way? I don't think I've seen her.'

'She was in first thing. She's trying to infiltrate some neo-Nazi group. We suspect they're building up to an attack on synagogues across the country, and letting the Muslims take the blame.'

Ruth sipped her tea. 'Seems odd. Why wouldn't they want to claim the credit themselves?'

He shrugged. 'I don't know, but I guess demonising Muslims to boot would tick a second lot of boxes. Anyway, how are you getting on?'

'Nothing so far. You?'

He shook his head. 'Zilch. I suppose Harry could write the book on how to disappear off the radar, and Jenna is obviously a fast learner. But don't worry, we'll find them.' At the other side of the Grod a phone started ringing. 'Oh, that'll be the pizza. Give Tariq a shout will you? I think he's in the Registry.' Dimitri moved off to answer his phone, and Ruth reached for hers, realising as she did so just how hungry she was.

* * *

_Tuesday morning_

Straight to voicemail again. Jenna flipped her phone shut, unease gnawing at her. No word from Harry in over 24 hours, and she hadn't exactly left him tucked up safe and sound in his bed. Something was definitely wrong. Turning south onto Leith Walk, she headed towards the bus stop and the buses to Tollcross.

* * *

His car was still parked on the forecourt in front of the B+B, dusted with frost. She glanced in the driver's window; nothing untoward. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the voile curtain in the downstairs window twitch. Time to introduce herself.

When she rang the doorbell the door was almost instantly opened. Trying not to smile at Berrada's rather incongruous dark velvet smoking jacket and tasselled silk slippers, Jenna put on her most winsome expression.

'Hi, I'm really, really sorry to disturb you so early, but I was wondering if my friend has got back yet? Julian? Julian Craster? I see his car's here but I'm not sure if he drove or...'

Berrada smiled politely. 'Miss, I have not seen Mr Craster for a day or two but if you would like to wait in the hall I shall check his room for you.'

'Thank you.' Glad of the opportunity to get into the warm, Jenna followed him inside. Berrada disappeared upstairs and she took the opportunity to flick through the register. It looked like Harry's was one of four rooms booked out; only two were vacant. Business seemed to be steady if not spectacular, but she suspected that a 66% occupancy rate in early November was pretty good going. At the sound of footsteps on the stair she moved back towards the door. Berrada re-appeared, slightly out of breath.

'No, I'm afraid Mr Craster is not here, and his bed has not been slept in. Perhaps as you are a friend you could ask him to telephone me to advise his plans? I'm afraid he paid for five nights and those have now passed. If he wishes me to store his belongings...'

'I'm afraid his brother's very ill so I don't want to trouble him. But I could pay you...maybe til the end of the week?'

'That would be most acceptable. So we have £35 per night. That would make it...£245, including the night owing.'

Jenna winced. 'Okay. Obviously I don't have that kind of cash on me, so I'll need to find a cashpoint. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so.'

The little man nodded. 'For sure. Lothian Road I think would be the best place.' With the corners of his mouth twitching into an unconvinced smile he held open the front door. 'Goodbye, miss.'

Pulling her scarf up over her chin in a vain attempt to repel the biting wind, Jenna turned and headed back the way she had come.

* * *

'Bingo!' Tariq shouted.

Dimitri and Ruth's heads shot up.

'Tess McGill - Jenna, has to be - has just withdrawn money on one of her cards...hang on...' As Ruth and Dimitri hurried over to his desk Tariq drilled down into the record on his screen.

'At Lloyds Bank...Fountainbridge...Lothian Road, Edinburgh.' He sat back, triumphant.

'CCTV?' asked Dimitri.

Tariq's fingers tapped at the keyboard, and a grainy image popped up. He scrolled the film to a couple of minutes before the withdrawal, and they saw a procession of shoppers pass by, wrapped up against the cold, and then...

'That's her,' Dimitri pointed.

Ruth stared at the somewhat unkempt figure in bemusement. 'I thought she was supposed to be gorgeous?'

'Oh, she is,' chorused her colleagues.

'She's done a good job with her legend then. Now, where is she going?'

They watched Jenna turn and wait to cross Lothian Road, her hands shoved into the depths of her jacket pockets. As the green man flashed up she moved out of shot.

Ruth exhaled. 'Tariq, pull up all the CCTV in the area, we have to find out where she's headed.' Image after image lined up on the screen. They got a brief glimpse of her as she reached the far pavement, then she was gone.

'Keep looking; she's in the middle of Edinburgh, she must hit another camera shortly. Dimitri, try doing face matching for the past few days; I'll work my way through Edinburgh hotels and B+Bs.'

The pods hissed behind them and Malcolm emerged, looking rather frazzled after his first JIC meeting.

Ruth looked up. 'How did it go?'

He shook his head. 'I can see why Harry keeps a booze stash in his office,' he murmured. 'What a shower.' He squeezed Ruth's shoulder. 'How are we doing?'

'Well, right now we know that Jenna is in Edinburgh. She's just withdrawn cash from an ATM and we're trying to pick her up again to find out where she's going.'

'Edinburgh, eh? Plenty CCTV there; shouldn't be too difficult. Tea anyone?'

* * *

Dimitri was a million miles away; to be precise, he was reliving the encounter he'd had with a Norwegian student in the pub the previous weekend, when the telltale red box flashed in the periphery of his vision. Snapping back to the present he sat forward and gazed at the screen. A match. And...'Oh shit,' he breathed. Alongside Jenna, laughing at something she was saying, walked the behatted, bearded, but unmistakeable figure of Harry Pearce, his hand very definitely entwined in hers.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry if this is dragging folks; the end is in sight, I promise! As ever, I don't own Spooks or the characters; Kudos do.**

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'What?'

He tensed. Ruth's voice.

'Dimitri? Have you found something?'

Before he could say anything she was beside him. He felt her go very still. 'Harry. That's Harry.' He risked a glance at her, and saw disbelief then distress flit across her face. And then resolution. 'No. It's part of the legend, whatever they're doing.'

'Well, yeah, 'course it is,' responded Dimitri, with more conviction than he felt.

'When was this?'

'Uh...3.14pm, Sunday. Outside the Balmoral Hotel.' He winced.

'Well, they're not staying there; I checked. Can we see before and after footage?'

They watched in silence. Jenna and Harry emerged from the crowds milling around the nearby bus stops and the station steps, and just as quickly they were swallowed up again.

'Tariq!' Ruth called, 'check out everything you can around the Balmoral Hotel going...'

Dimitri pulled up the city map. 'Could be east, north or south.'

'...going east, north or south around 3.14pm on Sunday.'

'Well, which?'

'All of them.'

'No, I mean do you want me to look for Jenna today or Jenna and Harry on Sunday?'

'Both!'

Tariq blew out his cheeks and swivelled round to set a second computer onto the search.

* * *

'Ruth!'

She looked up. Malcolm was beckoning to her from across the Grid, his face grave.

Pausing her search, she followed him into his office.

'Close the door, would you?'

Ruth slid it shut. 'Something wrong?'

'Mm. I've just had the DG on the phone, wondering what Tariq and Dimitri are working on practically 24/7 and why you're back. '

'What did you tell her?'

'The truth.'

She grimaced. 'Right. What did she say?'

'She's concerned that there's a backlog building up. Reports not being written, intel not being investigated, chatter not being analysed, blah di blah di blah.'

'It's been 24 hours, Malcolm, and we're nearly there.'

'You know how scarce resources are. You know how twitchy our lords and masters are about the slightest hint of terrorist activity, about leaks...and there have been plenty of both lately. And here we are running around like headless chickens because one of our team has gone AWOL on annual leave.'

Ruth stared at him. 'He's not gone AWOL on annual leave. He's gone dark and vanished off the face of the planet - well, okay, he's surfaced in Edinburgh - but something is wrong. I know it. And this is _Harry _we're talking about, for god's sake. '

'I'm sorry, Ruth. I know that your instincts are good, I know about feminine intuition and what have you, but the fact remains we have absolutely nothing to suggest that anything _has_ happened to Harry. Regardless, I'm afraid my hands are tied. And I don't want to make things more difficult for him when he does come back.'

'So what exactly are you saying?'

'Tomorrow morning, it's business as usual. And you go back to GCHQ.'

* * *

'Hello, Accident and Emergency, can I help you?'

'Hi. I'm wondering if my dad may have been brought in. I haven't heard from him for a few days and I'm a bit worried something may have happened to him.'

'What's his name?'

'Julian Craster.' Jenna spelled the surname.

Pause. 'No, I'm afraid nobody of that name's been admitted this past week. Do you have grounds for thinking he might have been taken ill?'

'Well, he's quite old. And he jogs, and if he had a heart attack or something while he was out he wouldn't have had any ID on him.'

'Okay, can you give me a description?'

'White; late 50s; balding; short fair hair, quite curly; 5 feet 9; medium build; brown eyes; beard. No tats or anything. So far as I know.'

'Can you hold please?'

Jenna curled one hand round her latte as she waited, wishing she'd also got something to eat. Out the window, a soft, smirry rain was falling from the lowering sky, blackening the pavements; hexagons of colour in her eyeline the only respite from the grey. A blast of cold air hit as the door opened to her left; a young couple hurried in, laughing, shaking the raindrops out of their hair. Normal, everyday life continuing as usual. She had already fully appraised the student to her right; tousled dark curls, bone structure to die for, long slender fingers practically stroking the laptop keyboard...

'...Hello?'

'Uh, hello, yes.'

'We do actually have a patient who matches that description and whose details we've been unable to establish. He was admitted yesterday morning.'

'Oh my god. What happened?'

'I'm afraid I can't discuss that over the phone. Is there any chance you can come in?'

Jenna massaged her forehead. 'Sure. I'll be with you as soon as I can.'

Dodging the puddles, head down, Jenna ran along Chambers Street, past the museums, the university buildings, the sheriff court, the few passers by moving out of her way. When she reached North Bridge she paused, taking in the stream of traffic and the huddled pedestrians, dilapidated discount shops mingling with minimalist cafes, the grandeur of Old College. Her street map had showed the hospital to be on the south east outskirts of the city; turning right she jogged up the hill to the row of bus stops, the stop panels finally confirming a bus was due in less than ten minutes. As she waited, her mind churned over all the possibilities of what might have happened to Harry. Of what state he might be in. Of what the hell she should do now. He'd told her that no matter what she should remain in legend and not contact the Grid, but surely he hadn't envisaged this. They weren't going to be doing anything dangerous, he'd said. Don't worry, he'd said. The bus pulled up and she boarded, hoping that when she saw Harry the decision would be made for her - one way or the other.

* * *

As she followed the nurse down the maze of corridors, her apprehension mounted with every step. All she knew was that Harry was heavily sedated so she wouldn't be able to talk to him. When they finally reached his room and the nurse held the door open for her it took all her courage to step inside. The first impression wasn't too bad; his face was bruised and grazed, but he looked for all the world as if he were sleeping peacefully. Then she saw the strip of bandages above the blankets, the lurid bruises on his chest and her breath caught.

'Is this your dad?' The nurse asked, one hand on her arm.

She nodded.

'Okay, I'll let you have a few minutes with him, then we'll need to take some details.

'What happened?'

'All we know is he was stabbed. He was found on Monday morning, at the back of a pub in Leith. We don't think he was robbed as he still had wallet, but there weren't any cards or anything to ID him with.'

'Right. Is he going to be okay?'

'He lost a lot of blood and he's had major surgery so he's not out of the woods yet; but he's strong, he's healthy, so he should be fine.' She gave Jenna a sympathetic smile. 'I'm sorry, this must be a shock for you. I'll be back in ten minutes.'

'Thanks.'

Jenna sat down beside Harry and took his broad hand in hers. 'Well, Mr Craster,' she sighed, 'where the hell do we go from here?'


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks as ever for reading and reviewing. Sorry, this one is a bit sweary. Usual disclaimers apply, although I guess I maybe own Jenna. Lucky me...!**

* * *

Really, when it came down to it, there was only one thing for it.

Back at the reception desk, she gave them her name and address as per the legend, claiming that her father lived in Leeds and was staying in a B+B while he visited his brother and did the whole tourism thing. "One bedroom flat, you see,' she explained. 'And he's a bit too old to slum it on my sofa.' She paused as the receptionist typed up all the details. 'His address? Oh, I think he's living with his latest floozy somewhere in Halton. That's all I know, sorry.' Jenna asked them to call her if there was any change, then left.

* * *

Her eyes burning from hours spent in front of the glare of the computer screen, her neck and back aching, Ruth had sought a few minutes' respite in the ritual of making a cup of tea when Beth walked into the Grid. Tariq and Malcolm had long gone; the face matching having thrown up nothing of any value and Section X having assured Malcolm there was nothing recent of note in Harry's log, other than the start of his relationship with Ruth. Dimitri, slumped wearily at his desk, was listening to recordings of mobile phone calls. He half-raised his arm in greeting. Beth glanced over at Ruth's desk; normally tidy, papers were scattered across the surface, and a yellow A4 pad had what looked like a long to do list, with most of the tasks scored off. Dimitri met her eye. 'Kitchen,' he mouthed.

Ruth was leaning against the worktop staring into space, the kettle long since boiled.

'Ruth, you should go home. You look exhausted.'

'I've got until eight o'clock in the morning to find Harry. Thereafter Malcolm's putting everyone back on day to day stuff and I get punted back to GCHQ.' To her horror, Ruth felt tears pricking her eyes. "Sorry, I'm just tired and my brain will not get into gear. I can't help feeling I'm missing something.'

Beth took mugs out of the cupboard and switched the kettle back on to boil. 'Want to bring me up to speed?'

As Ruth gave her a resume of the previous 30 hours, Beth pottered about making the tea, occasionally interjecting for clarification. When Ruth had finished, Beth leaned back against the worktop beside her, hands cradling her mug. 'Only one thing I can think of,' she ventured. 'You're looking for Harry because you're worried that something's wrong. And you've been focusing on the 'looking for him' part, rather than the 'something wrong' part.'

For the first time, Ruth raised her head, her face stricken. 'Oh god,' she whispered. 'We've got so tied up in all the state of the art technology and computer wizardry and boys bloody toys that we've forgotten the bloody basics. Oh, Beth, thank you.' Watching her bolt back to the Grid, invigorated by renewed hope, Beth hoped she hadn't just set Ruth up for more disappointment. Picking up her mug, she followed her through.

In the end, it took just five minutes. Ruth hung up on the ERI A+E and promptly burst into tears.

* * *

_Wednesday_

Life in the army, not to mention life in Five and Six, had tested Harry to the limits of his physical endurance. But as he began to come round he would gladly have traded in how he felt right then for any of the beatings he'd taken. As his eyes flickered open he groaned. The first light of dawn was filtering through the blinds, enabling the forms and colours in the room to slowly take shape. The unoccupied bed at the other side of the room. The bedside cabinet. The monitor. The chairs tidied against the wall. Yet another bloody hospital. This realisation was swiftly followed by memories of the altercation behind the pub. Jenna. Oh god. After quickly establishing that all four limbs were attached and working, his hands reached for the mattress to push himself up. The shaft of pain that seared through his chest made him cry out, and he sank back onto the bed, breathing heavily. He lay still for a moment, waiting for his heart to stop hammering, then reached to the side of the bed for the alert cord.

By the time the door opened and a nurse appeared, his parched throat was forgotten; all he was conscious of was the pain.

'Ah, Mr Craster, you're back with us.' She took in the taut expression on his face. 'Need your pain meds upping a bit?'

'Please. And may I have some water?'

'I'll get you some ice chips in a moment. Some checks to do first.' His blood pressure, pulse and temperature measured, she annotated the chart at the foot of his bed, then adjusted the drip. As his breathing slowed, she patted his arm. 'Good, you're doing fine. I'll just get that ice for you.'

Mr Craster? Berrada? No. Surely it must have been Jenna. It must have been. Jenna must be okay. She must be okay. Harry felt an almost physical wave of relief sweep over him. 'Please,' he begged a god he'd never believed in, 'please just let her be okay.'

* * *

'Th-thanks.' Seldom had mere water been so welcome. 'So what happened? I remember being punched, but...'

'I'm afraid you were stabbed in the abdomen and basically left for dead. I gather someone walking his dog found you on Monday morning; but how long you'd been lying there we don't know. Given your body temperature when you were brought in, we suspect a few hours at least. You've been very lucky.'

She laughed at Harry's raised eyebrow. 'You know what I mean.'

'Did they catch the guy who did it?'

'Not so far as I'm aware. But I'm sure the police will be in to speak to you later today. Meantime, you must rest.'

'What time is it? My watch...'

'It's in the bedside cabinet with the rest of your things. 'It's nearly 8 o'clock on Wednesday morning.'

'I've lost two days?'

'You've had major surgery, Mr Craster. Now rest!'

* * *

He dozed fitfully, vaguely aware of comings and goings. Early afternoon he was wakened by a knock on his door, and a nurse's head appeared in the doorway. 'Mr Craster? You've got a visitor. Your wife's here to see you.' She opened the door fully, beckoning the visitor through.

'Oh, thank god. Tess, where have you been, I...'

'Hello Julian,' said Ruth.

* * *

_'Luckily for him,' Ruth told Beth afterwards, 'when he saw me his face lit up, otherwise I think I would have lobbed my bag onto his stomach.'_

'Ruth! What on earth...'

Even now, when Harry knew every inch of her body better than he did his own, he sometimes found it hard to read her face. This time, though, there was no doubt. Relief, distress and anger chased each other across her features, each vying for predominance. Anger won.

'What the hell have you done, Harry?'

Perplexed. 'I got stabbed. Sorry. But it does make a change from getting shot. Ruth...'

'I don't mean that. I mean this whole bloody going dark thing. I mean shagging some bimbo from Six. I mean...'

Distress elbowed in. Raising her hand to her face as the tears started to fall she turned away from him.

'...What?' asked Harry faintly. 'Ok, perhaps I wasn't expecting you to fling yourself into my arms...in the circumstances I'm quite glad you didn't...but...what the hell are you on about? Jesus Christ, Ruth!'

She turned back round, eyes upraised to the ceiling, her palms obliterating her tears and smudging mascara streaks across her cheeks in the process.

Totally bewildered, Harry's voice was gentler. '_Shagged_ who? Jenna? Do you honestly think I could cheat on you? After everything we've been through? Ruth, come here. Please.'

Still not looking at him, Ruth sat down in the chair beside his bed.

'How did you find me? Did Jenna phone you?' He sounded disappointed.

'No, bloody Jenna didn't bloody phone me. The two of you left a bit of a trail.'

Harry exhaled. 'And you followed it. Despite the fact that I told you I'd gone dark. That's...'

'Number one in the book of protocols not to breach. I know.'

'And it took you this long to find me? I don't know which is worse.'

Stung, Ruth's head shot up. 'Less than 48 hours, Harry. I let you have your little Boy's Own adventure until Monday. On Monday, I knew something was wrong. And on that basis I thought I was justified in trying to find you.'

He blinked. 'You knew something was wrong? Seriously? Bloody hell.' He gave a quiet chuckle. Tentatively he reached for her, his hand caressing her cheek, feeling a little flutter of relief as she leaned into him. 'I love you. And I'm sorry for what I've put you through. But right now I'm too bloody knackered to be able to explain it all properly. Just know that none of this has been about my sleeping with Jenna. She is beautiful, but she's not you, and if I'm honest I don't think even my 30 year younger self would have stood a chance.'

'You're forgetting power is quite an aphrodisiac, Harry.'

'And you're forgetting that I was happy to go to jail for you. Happy to commit treason for you. Happy to die for you. I could never jeopardise what we have. I could no more make love to another woman than you could burn all your books and give up tea.'

The trace of a smile. 'Okay. Good point, well made.'

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. They both looked up as Jenna put her head round the door. 'Hi. Oh, hi!' she beamed at Ruth. 'They called me and said you'd come round. I'm not stopping, I just...I've got someone here I think you'd like to meet.' She moved into the room, opening the door with her, and the shadows behind her materialised into a tall, slim young man, unseasonably clad in jeans, a tshirt and a rather shabby hoodie. His shaven head served only to accentuate his deep brown eyes and beestung lips.

'Dear god,' whispered Harry. "Jenna, whatever Six pay you, I'll double it.'

'I'll hold you to that,' she grinned. 'But meantime I'll leave you guys to it. I'll pop back tonight to say goodbye.'

'Thank you.' Harry gave her a beatific smile. The man moved into the room to let her past, and as the door closed behind her he stood, obviously unsure what to say. Ruth stared at him, and at Harry, who was on the verge of tears. The intervening years had not been kind, but the resemblance was still unmistakeable. 'Ruth,' said Harry, his voice husky, 'I'd like you to meet my son.'


	12. Chapter 12

**We're getting there! Thanks for reading. Usual disclaimers apply.**

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Graham wasn't Harry's son for nothing. He crossed the room and offered his hand. In response to Ruth's introduction, he said 'Graham Pearce. Pleased to meet you.' But he was still at a loss as to what to say to his father, and Harry was just gazing at him, obviously trying to work out what he could say that wouldn't cause his son to bolt. As Ruth glanced from one to the other, realisation hit.

_He planned all this. He didn't trust me enough to tell me he was looking for his son. Worse than that, he wanted me out of the way while he looked for him. _

'I-I'll go. You two have a lot to talk about. Nice to meet you, Graham.'

Harry started to protest, but something in her face made the words die in his throat. 'Um..right. Uh, I've been staying at the Tollcross B+B; I'll be due the owner some money by now. Could you settle up with him?'

'Sure.'

'My wallet should be in there.' He indicated the cabinet.

Retrieving the wallet she slipped it into her bag. 'I'll see you later.'

The lack of a goodbye kiss fleetingly registered in Harry's mind, but the thought was swiftly chased out by the fact that his son was standing beside his bed, the son he hadn't seen for nearly ten years.

'It's really good to see you. How are you?'

Graham sighed. 'I don't know what to say to you. This whole charade has been for my benefit?'

'You're my son. I needed to see you.'

'Why? Why now?'

'Not just now. There's not a day goes by I don't think of you and hope you're okay and wish that I hadn't made such a total arse of everything. Truly, I'm sorry. And if you can't forgive me I hope you'll at least give me a chance to...'

'Why now?' he repeated. 'You get someone with a doctorate in psychology and who bears more than a passing resemblance to Ana to look for me? Don't tell me that's a coincidence. And then you actually take time off work to help search when she spots me on CCTV? I'm honoured. For the last time, what's going on, dad?'

'Graham, sit down.'

'I don't want to s...'

'Fucking sit down!' Harry roared.

Graham didn't move, but an eyebrow slowly lifted in a manner Ruth would have recognised. 'Well. Didn't take long for you to revert to type.'

'I'm sorry. Please. I'm sorry.'

Something about Harry's evident distress gave Graham pause.

'Is it mum? Is there something the matter with mum?'

'No, your mum's fine.'

'Then what?'

'...It's your sister.'

'Catherine? What about her? Dad?'

'Catherine's dead.'

'What? Don't be stupid. She's fine, she's in Tel Aviv.'

'She's dead, Graham. A guy who'd just split from his girlfriend got on her bus with a bomb he'd cobbled together in his bedroom. She was killed, along with 14 others.'

Harry saw his son's face crumple. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out to him, to hold him, to comfort him, but realising he had relinquished that right long ago. He watched Graham walk over to the window and lean heavily on the sill, head bowed, his breath coming in short gasps.

'She didn't suffer; she wouldn't have known anything about it. There's that, at least.'

'Oh yeah, that's a great comfort!' Graham's face was contorted in anger. He turned back to the window. 'When did this happen?'

'A few weeks ago.' He held up a hand, forestalling Graham's next outburst. 'I asked the police to find you, Five tried to find you, we put notices in all the national papers, but we didn't have a lot of time. Catherine's wishes were clear. She wanted to be buried in Israel, so we couldn't ship her back to the UK and keep her in a freezer while we tried to find you.'

'But you shouldn't have had to. She knows where I am!'

Harry sighed. 'Well, wherever your contact details were, she either knew them off by heart or had them on her. Neither the Israeli authorities nor I could find any in her flat.'

Graham said nothing. The silence lengthened. Harry, exhausted and in pain, lay and watched him. Eventually Graham spoke. 'How's mum?'

'I haven't seen her since we got back, but much as you'd expect.' Harry's mind drifted back to the afternoon he'd arrived at Jane and Robin's. She'd been gardening in front of the house, her long, still-blonde hair tucked into a shapeless woollen cap. She was still as slim as she'd been when they first met, and for the briefest moment when he stepped out of the car he'd thought he was looking at Catherine. Like Catherine, she always got totally absorbed in whatever she was doing, and it was only when his shadow fell across her that she'd looked up. In an instant, she knew. Of course, her first despairing thought was that it was their son, dead of an overdose in some squalid squat somewhere. The shock, the pain in her eyes when he said their daughter's name was a sight he'd never forget.

* * *

As Ruth ran out the automatic doors, she looked over to the bus stops on her left. Thankfully Jenna was still in the far shelter, engrossed in a book. Pulling her coat more tightly around her Ruth walked over. 'Jenna?'

She looked up. 'Oh, hello again! Leaving them to a spot of father - son bonding?'

'I'm Ruth Evershed.'

Jenna looked bemused. 'Yes, I know. And I'm Jenna Preston. But you know that too.'

'Let's go for a coffee.'

'Thanks, but I want to get back to the squat and get my things sorted. I'm booked on the sleeper back to London.'

Hiding her surprise at Jenna's announcement of her less than salubrious living arrangements, Ruth grabbed the book and shut it, dropping it back on Jenna's lap. 'That wasn't a request.'

* * *

At Jenna's suggestion, Ruth parked on Chambers Street and they returned to the Elephant House for tea and cake. When they were seated, at a small table in the back by the window, Jenna finally broke the silence.

'I get the impression you're rather angry with me.'

'I saw CCTV footage of you and Harry holding hands and looking very cosy.'

Jenna looked blank.

'Last Sunday. Outside the Balmoral.'

'Ohh! That wasn't so much 'holding hands' as Harry trying to drag me to the pub. We'd been walking round all day and he was cold and tired and wanted a drink. I wanted to keep going. He won.'

'Really. Harry told me that you've been sleeping together.'

'He _what_? Why on earth would he say that? I promise you, we haven't. I mean, no offence, I know he's your partner, but he's old enough to be my father.'

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'I believe you. He said he hadn't slept with you, but I needed to hear it from you too.'

Jenna's face was impassive. 'I see. You don't trust him?'

'I trust him. But I don't know you from Adam. And he's a middle aged man, hundreds of miles from home, emotionally vulnerable and working closely with a young, beautiful and ambitious colleague. He's only human.'

The younger woman took a sip of her tea before she responded. 'I am pretty sure that I could've turned up in his room in a basque, stockings, suspenders and killer heels and he would have turned me down. When he mentioned you, which he did often, it was obvious that he's in love with you.'

'He talked about me?'

'Don't worry, he didn't divulge your deepest and darkest innermost secrets. It was just little anecdotes, little asides. Like when we spoke to an old man with a particularly thick accent, he said after we left 'Should've brought Ruth along to translate.' Things like that. It was quite sweet, actually.'

Ruth contemplated her tea. 'What do you make of Graham?'

Jenna blew out her cheeks. 'I can't say I've got to know him that well, but from what I've seen, he's very like his father, and not just physically. He's very intelligent, has a short fuse, but I think he is surprisingly sensitive, especially when it comes to those he loves. Unfortunately his parents' marriage wasn't happy and his mother seems to have drip fed him poison about Harry from the word go. Not a good thing to do at the best of times, but particularly not to a sensitive child who idolised his father.'

'He idolised him?'

'To begin with. And that made Harry's absence, his poor parenting skills, his serial adultery, the fact that he, quote, killed people for a living, unquote, all the harder to bear. And love and hate are just two sides of the same coin, to trot out that old cliche. Ultimately it was easier just to hate his father than deal with the feelings he had for him.'

'I can't believe he's told you all this when he's only known you five minutes.'

'I have a doctorate in psychology and have trained further in counselling techniques with Six. It's not just waterboarding and music torture that gets people to talk you know.'

Patronising cow, thought Ruth. 'So, what chance do you give them of being able to patch things up?'

Jenna drained the last of her coffee. 'I'd recommend professional counselling, but if they take it slowly and are both prepared to accept what they hear then I don't see why not. There's obviously some degree of motivation on both sides to rebuild their relationship, and Catherine's death may well be the catalyst to shake them both out of their old mindsets. Anyway...I've really got to go.' Jenna reached behind her for her jacket and bag. 'Any chance of a lift?'

* * *

After dropping Jenna off, Ruth drove to the B+B. In the absence of a wedding ring and appropriate ID, Berrada took some persuading that she was Mrs Craster, but a full blown charm offensive that included showing him a photo of her and Harry, an offer to call Harry in the HDU, and some not terribly subtle resting of her hand on her belly eventually proved irresistible. Up in the room, she methodically worked her way through Harry's things, not really knowing what she was looking for. His wallet she found taped to the underside of the bed. Peeling it off, she checked through it. In the last pocket was a couple of dog eared photos. One was of a bare chested Harry sitting on the beach, laughing into the camera. Catherine, smiling tentatively, stood behind him, her head against his, her arms wrapped around his neck. Graham, a chubby toddler, sat on Harry's thigh gazing in consternation at the trickle of sand oozing out through his clenched fist. The second photo was the passport snap Ruth had submitted with her original MI5 application in 2004. She sank onto the bed. The face that stared back at her looked so young, so earnest, so unprepared for what life in the Security Services would throw at her. Replacing the photos she wondered if she'd known then what she knew now whether she would have ever posted that form.

She wasn't entirely sure.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for reading, and for all the reviews. I really appreciate them! One, maybe two, more chapters to come. As ever, none of this belongs to me, and it gets a little bit sweary.  
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* * *

To Harry's relief, Graham was as good as his word and came back for evening visiting. He was subdued - not surprising given the afternoon's revelations - but for the first time he sat down beside his father.

'No Ruth?'

'I expect she'll be along later. She's probably having a rest given that she drove here straight from London.'

'So what is it with you two?'

'Sorry?'

'Are you an item or something? You were holding hands when I arrived this afternoon, but then she could barely look you in the eye and she vamoosed pretty damn sharpish.'

'She wanted us to talk. Obviously she saw enough to realise we wouldn't need a referee and thought we might be more...open without a third party present.'

'You still haven't answered my question.'

'Yes.'

'You're seeing each other?'

'Yes. No. More than that. "Seeing each other" makes it sound like some casual fling. I'm in love with her.'

Graham started. 'TMI, dad. And very unlike you to be so emotionally honest.'

'You're not a child anymore, Graham. Ruth and I pussyfooted around each other for years. Apparently when she first saw me there was something of a coup de foudre; for me, it took a little longer, and longer still to realise it. But we didn't finally get our act together until a few weeks ago. So many wasted years just because we couldn't bring ourselves to say 'I love you.' ' He gave a rueful smile. 'I'm not very good at learning from my mistakes, as you well know.'

'And you think that telling me you love me will make everything all right between us?'

'No, but I am asking for a chance to put things right. I know I'm nearly 30 years too late, and I've got a helluva lot to put right, but I'll do whatever it takes.' Harry sighed. 'Graham, life is too short and too fragile for not doing your best by those you love. But for some guy walking his dog on Monday morning, you could've lost both your father and sister in a matter of weeks and known bugger all about it. God knows you don't deserve that; nobody does.'

Graham sat slumped in his chair, fiddling with the pull tab on his hoodie zip, for all the world like a moody teenager.

'Your mum and I married too young, and we married the wrong people, and we both handled it badly. Your mother thought little of my career and my way of proving to her that it was worthwhile and that I was good at it was to throw myself into it. Of course, that just proved her point that I was a lousy husband and widened the gulf between us. And because I couldn't...connect with her I never really bonded with you and Catherine. Admittedly, I didn't try as hard as I should have. I let your mum push me aside when you were crying and I was trying to comfort you. I believed her when she said it was best that I wasn't there for your birthday rather than appearing for an hour and having to leave again. I knew I was a terrible father. All I seemed to do, left right and centre, was let you all down, disappoint you, and the guilt of that just made me lash out. So I took refuge in the one thing I was good at, my work, hoping that if I stayed out of your lives I would at least minimise the damage I caused. Work was my answer to everything and the solution, as it turned out, to nothing.'

'Bullshit,' Graham muttered.

As if on cue, Ruth walked in. She took one look at Graham's mutinous face and Harry's stunned one and halted mid-stride. 'Should I leave?'

'I just bared my soul to my son and he told me I was talking bullshit.'

'To be fair, not all of it was bullshit. You _were_ a lousy husband and a terrible father.'

Harry flinched.

Ruth laid a holdall on the foot of Harry's bed. 'Well, I'm glad you're both agreed on something. Subtle change of subject: I brought you some bits and bobs. Toiletries...pants, socks, tshirts...I got a pair of jogging bottoms; hopefully they'll be loose enough not to aggravate your stomach. Oh, and your razor.'

Harry rubbed his chin. 'Oh, I don't know. I quite like the bearded look.'

'It is quite sexy,' Ruth conceded, 'but trust me, my face red raw wouldn't be.'

Harry grinned. 'Fair enough. Can you help me get dressed? I've been in the same boxers for days.'

'What about a wash, don't you need a wash?'

Graham shot out of his chair. 'I'll just...get a coffee.'

Harry waited til the door closed behind him then reached for Ruth. 'As it happens I got a bed bath earlier, but if you would like to soap me down I'm all yours.'

She broke the kiss. 'You had some gorgeous young thing in a nurse's uniform washing you all over? I hope the cardiac unit's on this floor.'

'Sadly he more resembled Towers' younger brother in pyjamas.' He winced as he raised his arms to put on the tshirt. 'Anyway, are you going to tell me what's wrong?'

She pulled down the tshirt and reached for his boxers. 'Sorry?'

'I can just about understand why you were angry when you arrived, but your reaction to Graham was...unexpected, and, well, you just seem a bit upset for some reason.'

'Can you lift your bum up a bit. Was I rude to Graham? Sorry. It was all a bit...'

'What was all a bit what? Talk to me, Ruth.'

He saw a flash of anger in her eyes. 'That's a bit rich.'

'What?'

'Look, there's a time and place. We'll talk about this when we get back to London.'

'No, we'll talk about this now!'

She pulled a pair of boxer briefs from the holdall, then sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, plucking at the fabric.

'I don't understand why you couldn't tell me that you wanted to look for Graham. I don't understand why you had to have this ridiculous cloak and dagger charade. You were trying to find your son, for god's sake, not infiltrate an IRA cell. And worst of all, I don't understand how you could tell me a pack of lies and shunt me out of the way to GCHQ in order to ensure that I didn't find out what you were up to.'

Pause. 'Is there any chance you could put those briefs on before I answer that? I feel a bit naked.'

'Oh, put on your own bloody pants!' Ruth shouted, and throwing them at him, she grabbed her bag from the chair and stormed out.

* * *

Graham returned ten minutes later to find his father staring despairingly into space.

'Where's Ruth?'

'Things to do, people to see.'

'Dad?'

'We had a full and frank exchange of views. Well, Ruth did.'

'For fuck's sake, I was gone like ten minutes! What on earth did you do?'

'Oh, so you automatically think it's my fault?'

Graham snorted. 'Can't think why.'

* * *

Back at the B+B, Ruth had a perfunctory wash then crawled into bed. Despite the double glazing and the thick curtains, the intermittent hum of traffic along the road outside prevented her from drifting beyond a doze. She was about to give up and switch the light on to read when her mobile rang, the backlit screen casting an eerie green glow across the room. Fumbling across the top of the bedside cabinet her fingers closed on the phone and she brought it blearily to her face. Not a number she recognised.

'Hello.'

'It's me. I'm on Graham's mobile and he doesn't have much credit left so please can you just listen? I thought you'd try to stop me. I thought you'd be worried about my getting hurt if I found him, getting hurt if I didn't. I didn't want to burden you with licking my wounds if it all went pearshaped. I didn't want Graham getting wind of my being there and running a mile. I didn't want the local CID getting wind of my being there and taking a professional interest. Thankfully despite what's happened it seems they are still oblivious of who I really am. I wanted to get Jenna in to help because of her background and because she's the dead spit of the first girl Graham fell in love with. Corny, but hey, it worked. Budgets being as they are I could only wing it if it was one in, one out, and I thought that you'd turn up some kind of dodgy goings on in Cheltenham in no time and be back on the Grid before the mathematicians even took their noses out of their logarithms long enough to register you were there. And I can't remember if that is everything but this bloody thing is beeping so I'll just say I love you and please can you come and put my pants on tomorrow.' The line went dead.

Laughing despite herself, Ruth put the phone back on the bedside cabinet.

'I love you too, Harry Pearce,' she whispered. Within moments, she was asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Decided to make this a shortish one, so still one, maybe two, to go, sorry! Thanks for reading.**

**Usual disclaimers apply.**

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* * *

**_Friday_

'Please reconsider,' Harry pleaded.

Graham shook his head. 'I have a life up here. I know you don't think one room in a rundown flat and playing in a pub band is much of a life, but it's mine, and for the first time in years I'm...doing okay.'

Ignoring the warning look Ruth shot him, Harry persisted. 'But London's your home. I've got plenty of room and god knows the place is crawling with pub bands. You could take your pick. And there are more job opportunities and...'

'I can't go back to London, dad.'

Harry exhaled. 'You do know that if you're...in trouble, I can sort it?'

Graham rolled his eyes. 'Here, I've got clean. It's been over a year now, the longest I've ever managed, and I want to keep it that way. Going back anywhere near my old haunts is just asking for trouble.'

'Mm, clean and sober in Trainspotting city,' said Harry drily. 'Who'dathunkit?'

They were interrupted by the nurse coming in with painkillers, Harry's discharge letter, and a box of melolin pads. Ruth, unhappy at Harry's being sent home four days after major surgery, duly interrogated her as to medication side effects, dressing changes, signs of infection and lifestyle restrictions. Graham watched, bemused. Harry was a million miles away, torn between his need to get home to his own bed and work on making amends with Ruth, and his distress at leaving his son in his haphazard, fragile life, with so much still unsaid and unresolved, to grieve his for sister alone.

Ruth was stroking his back. 'Harry, we need to go. We've got a long drive ahead of us.' Her heart jolted at the anguished eyes that met hers. She watched as he crossed the room to his son and clasped his arms, then pulled him into a hug. The last time he'd hugged him, Harry realised, it had been awkward and brief. And Graham had been twelve years old.

'You will keep in touch?' he said, into his son's shoulder.

'Yes, dad. And you've got my mobile number and webmail address.'

'I put a few quid on your mobile, to replace all the credit I used up.'

'Okay, thanks.'

'And you're sure I can't give you...'

'No, dad. I'm fine.'

'And you will call your mother?'

A brief hesitation, then, 'I'll call her.' Graham pulled out of the hug, discomfited to see that his father was on the verge of tears.

'I love you,' said Harry.

Graham gave a small, sad smile. 'I know you do. Say hi to Jenna from me.'

'I will.'

They walked out to the car park in silence. As they reached Ruth's car she paused. 'Can I make a suggestion?'

* * *

_Six weeks later_

When the flight landed Ruth was already at the arrivals gate, fidgeting with the tassels on her scarf as she waited for Harry to appear. Finally the door opened and passengers began to file through, some weary and harassed, others excited and expectant. She scanned the faces, looking for Harry's bashful smile. She spotted him as he appeared in the doorway; that his face was drawn and tired barely registered as she called his name and waved. He looked up and eased his way through the throng towards her, and then she was in his arms. For a moment he held her, re-familiarising himself with the feeling of her body pressed against his. Breathing in the scent of her hair he whispered 'I've missed you so much.'

'You too,' she smiled, tilting up her chin for him to kiss her. He cupped her face in his hands and hesitatingly his lips found hers. His kisses were heartbreakingly, frustratingly, gentle and tender. As he drew back she remembered why. 'Graham!' she looked round, expecting to see him standing a few feet away, pointedly looking in the other direction.

Harry shook his head.

'What? Where is he?'

'He decided to stay on a bit longer. Get more of a feel for the place Catherine loved so much. He said he felt closer to her there.' Harry looked wretched.

Now it was Ruth's turn to cup his face in her hands, and gaze into his eyes as she had done once, a long time ago. 'He'll be fine, Harry. I promise you. And maybe this is just something he needs to do to lay some ghosts to rest; to get closure.'

Harry winced. 'God knows what he'll get mixed up in out there. He'll probably get some misguided notion in his head about avenging his sister's death, and end up...' he left the words hanging in the air.

'No, he won't. He's not stupid, he knows what happened. He knows that Catherine was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that she was out there doing something she loved for people she loved. Just...let him deal with this as best he sees fit.'

'I don't really have a lot of choice in the matter, do I?.' He gave a weary smile and reached behind him for his suitcase. 'Anyway, one consolation is that the six week moratorium is finito, and sod the jetlag, Evershed, I need to take you to bed.'

* * *

As they navigated their way home through the gaudily lit city streets, he told her about Tel Aviv, about what they'd found out about Catherine and her life there. He told her about Graham, about how he was finally getting to know his son, and somewhat to his surprise, to like him. He told her about how they'd visited the Nahalat Yitzhak cemetery, and seen the plain headstone, under the olive trees, that marked Catherine's grave. And, there, finally, Graham had cried.

* * *

Driving had never been one of Ruth's best core competencies. 'Slow down a bit, will you?' Harry asked. 'The flat feet will be out in force hoping to catch drink drivers.'

'Back seat driver,' Ruth muttered.

'Ruth...!'

'Okay, okay.' She eased off the accelerator. 'But don't forget it's been nearly two months for me too.'

Harry gave a snort of laughter. 'Where's the police escort when you need one, eh?'


	15. Chapter 15

**I've changed my mind about fifty million times about how this would pan out, so I decided to post a short chapter, to commit to something, otherwise I'd still be swithering at the end of S10. Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Hope they don't come to a crashing halt with this chapter!**

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Ruth sat on the sofa, hugging her bare knees to her chest. 'Poor Scarlet,' she said absently, as she gazed down on the sleeping dog. 'Do you think we've traumatised her?'

Harry was picking up the trail of tangled clothing from the hall floor. 'Frankly, I'm just glad she didn't try to join in. And right now I'm even gladder Graham didn't come back with me.' He stood in the doorway, his arms full of clothes. 'Come on sweetheart, we should get to bed. We've both got work in the morning.'

She didn't move from the sofa. 'Harry, there's something I haven't told you.'

'Can you tell me in bed? I'm knackered.'

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you at the time, I just didn't want to tell you over the phone. And I couldn't tell you earlier because, well, you needed to talk about Graham and Tel Aviv.'

Realising he wasn't going to get to bed any time soon, Harry sat down beside her on the sofa. 'Go on.'

'That funny fluey stomach bug I had, that went on for weeks?' She took a deep breath. 'I finally got round to going to the doctor's last week, and it turns out it wasn't a bug.'

She was aware that Harry had gone very still. She looked up at him, and saw the concern in his eyes. 'I-I'm sorry, I...'

'Ruth,' he took her hand in his, ' you're beginning to scare me. What on earth's wrong?'

'You grumbled earlier about my being insatiable...'

'Trust me, I wasn't grum...'

'I know, I know. And you must have noticed I've gone up about a dozen cup sizes.'

'What? Oh. Well, yes, but isn't that a normal part and parcel of your...cycle?'

Ruth raised her eyebrows.

'Okay, maybe not.'

'Oh, for crying out loud, Harry, do the math.'

He stared at her, perplexed.

She exhaled. 'I'm going to have a baby.'

Still he stared at her, perplexed.

'...what?' he asked, finally.

She'd rather expected his face to light up, a shout of glee, his arms to be flung around her. Yet he was staring at her as if she'd just started spouting Klingon.

'I'm ten weeks pregnant. I'm expecting. You're going to be a father again. I'm carrying your child...Harry!'

He'd pulled his hands from hers and stood up. 'Christ,' he muttered.

Shattered, Ruth retrieved her clothes from the bundle and began to get dressed. 'Well, I guess that says it all. I was going to ask you to sort out my transfer back to Five tomorrow but it doesn't look as if there's much point.'

Dazed, Harry reached for her. 'Wait...wait...stop.'

She shook his hand free. 'I'm having this baby whether you like it or not. Whether we're together or not. So you'd better start getting used to the idea.'

He dragged his palms down his face, hardly able to believe the turn that the evening had taken. 'Ruth, you're not being fair.'

She zipped up her boots and stood, her eyes bright with tears. 'Goodnight, Harry.'

'Please will you just...'

The front door slammed.


	16. Chapter 16

**The change of tack means it will take me a wee bit longer to finish this off. And who knows, I may yet end up with a completely different ending to the one I'd envisaged. **

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* * *

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He'd considered setting the alarm so he woke up in good time, but as it turned out the best he managed was a fiftul doze. At 4am he crawled out from under the duvet, showered, dressed, and ate a few mouthfuls of porridge while Scarlet unenthusiastically inspected the back garden.

By 5am he was pulling up a few doors down from Ruth's house.

The light was on in her bedroom. For a moment he considered the wisdom of having this conversation at that time of the morning, but then she'd switched off her mobile and wasn't answering her landline, so what choice did he have?

He rang the doorbell. No answer. He pressed it again, and kept his finger there, wondering if she was in fact in the shower, covered in suds and cursing him.

With his free hand he flapped open the letterbox. 'Ruth! Will you open this bloody door!'

He heard movement at the top of the stairs, the hall light went on, and then the door was flung open. She looked deathly pale, and he doubted if she'd slept much either.

'We need to talk. Last night - it was a shock. I reacted badly, and I'm sorry. But please can we talk about this?'

She reached behind the door and pulled her coat and bag from the peg. 'At five o'clock in the morning? I know timing was never your strong suit, but do you really want to discuss aborting your child right now?'

He recoiled. 'Jesus, Ruth.'

She felt a stab of guilt. 'I need to go. I've got to drive to Cheltenham. Another thing on the list of shitty things you've done to me.'

'Making a baby with you is a shitty thing?' Stricken, he took a step back as she closed the door behind her and locked up. 'Two minutes, please.'

She pushed past him and strode down the path. 'Just leave me be, Harry. I can't do this right now.'

She reached the car, Harry two paces behind her. As she rummaged in her coat pocket for the car keys she paused. 'My suitcase. I forgot my suitcase.' Her shoulders sagged. 'I can't remember anything these days.'

As she turned to go back, Harry's hand grabbed hers. 'I'll get the damn case. Just...' He cupped her chin, turning her face towards him. 'I love you, Ruth. Please don't shut me out.'

She held up her door keys. 'It's in the bedroom.'

'Okay. I'll just be a moment. Don't go anywhere.'

When he reappeared with the case she was sitting in the driver's seat, her head lolling back against the headrest. He put the case in the boot then walked round and opened her door. 'Come on, give me a goodbye kiss. I'm not going to see you til the weekend.'

Her fingers were twisting the tassels of her scarf round and round. 'So you're not going to recall me from GCHQ.' It was a statement, not a question. Harry stared at her for a moment then shut her car door, walked round, and got in the passenger side.

'I realise we haven't had a chance to properly talk about all that, what with all the organising of the trip, and then my being away, but we will.' He sighed. 'I take it you haven't found any evidence of...? No. Well, let's be honest, even between them all that lot probably don't have the brains to work out how to breach all the security protocols. And if they had you'd have sussed it out in five minutes flat.'

'Don't patronise me, Harry.'

'I'm not. Believe me, I'm not. Look, I can't just phone up their DG and present him with a fait accompli. But I don't want you to be 100 miles away any more than you do. Especially now. Leave it with me, okay?'

Ruth gave a barely perceptible nod. 'I really do have to go now.'

'Be a bit late in for once in your life. Please. I can't have you driving off thinking that I don't want you, that I don't want our baby. It's just that I'd thought the nappies I'd be changing in my 60s would be my grandchildren's, not my children's. It's a lot to get my head around.' He leaned over and laid his hand on her belly. His heart gave a little flutter of relief as her hand closed over his, but still she wouldn't look at him. 'And I made a total arse of fatherhood first time round. I wouldn't inflict myself on any child, frankly, let alone another of my own.'

'You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it.'

They both smiled then, and drawing her towards him he kissed her gently. 'Have a good day at work. I'll phone you tonight.'

* * *

Towers was standing by the window when Harry walked in.

'Ah, Harry. You're looking uncommonly cheerful for a man who's just been stabbed.'

'Well on the mend now, Home Secretary.'

'I gather the story had somewhat of a happy ending, mm?'

'Not so much ending, as a new chapter. I hope so, anyway.'

'Jolly good, jolly good. Well, thank goodness we didn't have any undesirables getting up to mischief while you were gallivanting all over the country, eh?'

'I am entitled to time off once in a while.'

'Quite, quite. But the fact remains. And your team spent quite a bit of time tracking you down, I believe.'

All of a sudden Harry felt his early start beginning to catch up with him. 'A couple of days or so. And they kept an eye on operational matters. There was no question of...'

'I'm not quite sure that Malcolm...er...'

'Wynn-Jones.'

'Wynn-Jones is up to the rigours of your post, Harry.'

'I chose him because I trust him. And because I knew he would keep things under control for the short spell I intended to be away. He has top level clearance. He knows the Grid like the back of his hand. He's familiar with all the protocols, the politics.'

Towers raised an eyebrow. 'Two months is not exactly what I'd call a short spell.'

'Getting stabbed hadn't exactly featured on my itinerary.'

'And what about Ms Preston and Ms Evershed? I gather that their musical chairs act is all tied up in this.'

'Jenna; I haven't had a chance to speak to her, but Malcolm rates her highly. As do Tariq and Dimitri.'

Towers' mouth twitched.

'Ruth...her analytical and language skills are far superior to Jenna's, although Jenna did do a superb job in Edinburgh. If she wants to stay in Section D and budgets permit I'd like to keep her.'

'And Ms Evershed?' Towers prompted him.

'I think whoever the mole is in GCHQ knows all too well who she is and why she's there.'

'Hm. I believe I suggested that might be the case some weeks ago.' He didn't wait for a response. 'So. Time for a strategic withdrawal? Change of tack?'

'I think that may be a good idea, Home Secretary.'

'Very well, I'll speak to the DG.'


	17. Chapter 17

**Another shortie, in sympathy with Ruth's pregnancy brain, I think!

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It felt strange, somehow, being back at Thames House. He was touched that the security staff welcomed him back with what seemed to be genuine pleasure. Up in the Grid, faces looked up and smiled in greeting as he walked past.

Beth and Dimitri were standing at Tariq's desk, intent on his computer screen. 'Such concentration. Must be Christmas shopping,' said Harry.

They looked up. 'Hey, good to see you back!' Dimitri clapped him on the shoulder, and after a second's hesitation, Beth gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Harry blushed. 'Er, thank you. I must get stabbed more often!'

Tariq, an old hand at welcoming colleagues back from the fray, just grinned.

'How are you feeling?' Beth asked.

'Raring to go. Meeting room in ten minutes?'

* * *

It was strange going into his office and finding someone else sitting at his desk, even if they did jump up with alacrity the second he appeared in the doorway.

'Harry! It's so good to see you!' To Harry's surprise, Malcolm eschewed his normal reserve and embraced him. 'How are you?'

'Tired,' Harry admitted, hanging up his coat. 'It's been pretty much all go since Edinburgh. But things seem to be healing up okay.'

'Glad to hear it, but do take things easy for a while. Said he more in hope than expectation. How's the lovely Ruth?'

In the wee small hours of the morning Harry had had a lot of time to think. One of the things he'd realised was that with Jane, with Graham, with Catherine, he'd dealt with it all himself. He'd never asked for advice, never confided in anyone, he'd just done what he thought was right at the time, even when half way through he could see how flawed his thinking had been. Thinking? There'd been precious little of that. Empathising, even less.

'She's pregnant.'

The shock on Malcolm's face was almost comical.

'My word,' he managed, at length. Then, 'congratulations!'

He took in Harry's face. 'No?'

Harry slumped into his chair. 'She only told me last night, and this goes no further.' The look on his face was all too familiar.

Malcolm nodded. 'Of course.'

'I...didn't handle it well. She was expecting me to be thrilled and I think my exact words were 'Christ.''

'Ah.'

'It came out of the blue, and dirty nappies and sleepless nights at my age? And look at my track record. Graham? You can't tell me that's not all my fault.'

'He's an adult now, Harry,' said Malcolm quietly. 'He can make his own decisions. You can't blame your parents for everything forever.'

'Maybe not. But maybe I'm just not cut out for fatherhood.'

'Maybe the thirty year old you just wasn't cut out for fatherhood with Jane. The sixty year old you with Ruth, however...'

Harry pursed his lips.

'Do you love her? I mean, really love her?'

'I would've gone to jail for her. Betrayed my country for her. Taken a bullet for her. '

'That's not what I asked. Lust can make heroes of us too. Or some of us, anyway.'

'When I'm with her, I feel I could do anything, yet nothing else matters. She makes everything make sense, seem _right_. Things that she says or does that would infuriate me in anyone else, in her I find endearing. Without her...it's an old cliche, but I feel a part of me is missing. Yet ultimately all that matters to me is that she's happy, whether she's here with me...or thousands of miles away with some other bugger.'

'So...'

'Every morning when I wake up I think it can't be possible to love someone more. Every day she proves me wrong.'

Malcolm smiled. 'You should be having this conversation with her.'

'And the baby?'

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. 'You tell me.'

Harry stared at him for a moment. 'The woman I love is carrying my baby.' He swallowed. 'And that's all that really matters, isn't it? Everything else...it's just background noise.'

* * *

**Hope the fluffphiles amongst you enjoyed this a bit more!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Yup, sorry, this one has taken on a whole new life. Perhaps it should now be a different story, but hey ho! Thanks as ever for the reviews, hope you enjoy it, and usual disclaimers continue to apply.**

* * *

Three o'clock and Harry was fading fast. Wearily he tossed another report into the filing pile. There was a knock on the door. Beth.

'Harry, can you come and take a look at this, please?'

He followed her out onto the Grid.

'We asked Tariq to look into a website that was giving cause for concern. He's hacked into the email accounts of the guy that set it up and the results...well, it looks like they're planning to take action against the trade delegation next week.'

Harry stood by Dimitri's shoulder, his face getting grimmer as he read. 'Dimitri, get onto Six. Find out if they know anything about these people. Beth, see what you can find here. Depending on what you do find we'll probably need to contact the local flat feet and CTC.' His phone chirruped. Ruth. He frowned. 'Excuse me.'

He headed back to his office. 'Ruth? Is everything alright?'

Silence.

'Ruth?'

'I've been awful, haven't I?'

He felt the weight on his shoulders melting away. 'It's the pregnancy hormones, love. Your moods will be all over the place. And I haven't helped, I know that.'

'I said some terrible things.'

'That's okay. You were upset. I should've been more...it was a shock, that's all. It's not as if it was something we'd discussed, and I had expected my retirement to be more Grand Tour than Toys R Us.'

Silence. 'I am sorry.'

'Sweetheart, sweetheart, oh god, Ruth, please don't cry. Look, you have nothing to apologise for.'

She sniffed. 'We are okay, aren't we?'

'Of course we're okay. I love you. Both of you.'

'So you're happy about the baby?'

'We've got a lot to talk about, a lot to sort out, but yes, I am.'

She was smiling. He knew she was smiling. He sat, phone cradled against his ear, saying nothing, smiling too.

* * *

_Friday_

'Ah, Harry, do come in.'

Towers wasn't alone. Opposite him sat a tall, blonde man in what even Harry could see was a very expensive suit. Something about him was strangely familiar.

'Drink?' Towers held up a decanter of what Harry knew was Laphroaig. Somehow he suspected he was going to need it.

'Please. Neat.'

Towers handed him a tumbler containing a worryingly generous measure. 'You've been saying for long and weary that you need a new section chief. Well, I've found the very man for you.' He indicated the suit, who duly rose to his feet.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Sorry, I wasn't aware that in the space of two months you'd advertised, shortlisted, background checked, interviewed and appointed. That's pretty nifty work, Home Secretary.'

'Don't be facetious, Harry. You came to me with a problem, I have a solution. And the budget, more to the point.'

'Don't I get a say any more in who works for me?'

'Regretfully in this case it appears not.'

'And Ruth and Jenna?'

Towers sucked his teeth. 'One of them will have to go. Difficult times, Harry. You know that.''

'Thought as much.'

The suit was regarding them both with a look of bemused detachment. 'Should I go and wait outside while you two fight this out?'

'That sounds like a plan. But I would keep walking, if I were you. I choose my own Section Chief.'

'Harry!' barked Towers. 'Nobody's going anywhere. This is non-negotiable. Now, Harry Pearce, Phil Meyers. Phil has worked with the FCO since the year dot. His file has been emailed to you.'

Harry stared at the man in front of him. 'Meyers? Ros Meyers' brother?'

The suit offered his hand, and gave a polite but not entirely unfriendly smile. 'One and the same. So, are we all friends now? Can we get down to business? I believe there's the small matter of a trade delegation next week.'

* * *

_Saturday_

Breakfast had been room service; Ruth's mostly untouched, to Harry's consternation. That they'd spent most of the morning making love had not even done anything to boost her appetite. 'I'm fine,' she reassured him, 'just a bit nauseous, and I can't face the thought of...' she waved vaguely in the direction of the tray, '...any of that.' Declining his offer to get her something else, anything she wanted, she ran a bath for them both. One of the few benefits of hotel living was a bath bigger than either of them had at home. She lay back against his chest, and dozed.

Afterwards, back in bed, as they watched trashy Saturday afternoon telly, Harry was all too aware they still hadn't talked. Of more pressing concern though, was that he'd worked off breakfast long since.

'Hey.'

'Mmm?'

'I'm hungry.'

She reached behind her to the bedside table and handed him the room service menu.

'No, no, let's go out. We need to talk, and having a bed in the room is just too...distracting.'

She laughed. 'I thought I was the one with the raging libido.'

'Did I say I was the one being distracted?'

'True enough. Okay, there's a nice little cafe round the corner. We can try there.'

Harry, who'd been thinking more along pub lines, nodded, and started getting dressed.

* * *

'_Ros's_ brother?'

_'_Mmhm.'

'What's he like?'

Harry swallowed the last of his burger. 'Ros. Only without the charm.'

She laughed. 'The mind boggles.' She looked up. 'Why wasn't he at the funeral?'

'He did go to the first one. He was in Somalia for the second.'

'Ah. And talking about people coming to work on the Grid...'

'I talked to Towers. He's going to sort it.'

'Harry, his idea of sorting things is dumping bloody Ros's brother on you.'

'I know.'

'And how long are you going to give him? I'm going to have scans, doctors' appointments, ante natal classes. Having every inch of me poked, prodded and scrutinised is going to be bad enough without a four hour round trip over the winter to get there!'

Sensing the beginning of a rant, Harry squeezed her hand. 'I'll talk to him again on Monday. If need be I'll talk to the DG himself. I just don't want there to be any fallout from this. Best not to leave any traces.'

'Why? In case you need to sideline me again?'

He winced. 'We need to keep GCHQ sweet, you know that. And I am sorry about the whole Graham thing. I'm just so used to ploughing my own furrow, taking the most expedient course of action, that I forgot it's not just what I want anymore, it's not just my life. It's _ours.'_

Ruth frowned. 'So I'm a hindrance now, am I?'

'No!' He reared back, exasperated. Dear god, was this what the next 30 weeks were going to be like? _'_'For whatever reason, grief, maybe, I defaulted to my inconsiderate, selfish, act first, think later setting, and all I could see was that you were likely to dissuade me from doing something that I needed to do...'

'I wouldn't...'

'You would have, Ruth. You would have been worried about my finding him, worried about my not finding him. You would've worried about his telling me where to go. You would've worried about the impact my having my son back would have on our lives.'

Ruth shook her head. 'I can see why it was something you had to do, and yes, I would have _worried_ about all those things. I couldn't bear the thought of him causing you any more hurt. But I wouldn't have tried to stop you.' She took a sip of tea. 'And anyway, that's not the point. You have to trust me, Harry. We're supposed to be a couple. What's going on in your life, your worries, your fears, your hopes, your dreams, I should know all these things.'

'Okay. But you need to give me a chance. It's not easy to overturn the habits of a lifetime.'

'I know. But have you any idea what it was like, getting that text and then knowing, just knowing, that something was wrong and not knowing where on earth you were or what had happened? And what if something had happened to me? What if I'd had a miscarriage and nobody could get hold of you?'

He sighed. They were going round in circles. What else could he say? He'd explained, he'd apologised, he'd promised not to do it again, and yet she still wasn't happy. 'What can I do to make it up to you?'

'Harry, grovelling apologies and making amends are irrelevant. It's the fact that you did it in the first place.'

'I see that,' he said patiently. 'But whatever gadgets Tariq has come up with, he's still not quite perfected the one that turns back time. All we can do is learn from this, put it behind us and move on.'

Ruth was toying with her pasta. She'd hardly eaten any of it.

'That must be cold by now. Can I get you something else?'

She shook her head. 'Not really hungry.'

'Ruth, you need to eat. It's winter, you're pregnant, you can't live on cups of tea.'

Her fork clattered onto the plate. 'Can we go?'

There was no point in arguing, he knew that much. He pushed his chair back and stood up. 'Okay, I'll go and pay.'

* * *

Outside the temperature had dropped and the last of the light was leeching from the sky. To his relief she snuggled into him, wrapping her arm around his waist.

'Can we go and have a look at the market before we head back?'

'Sure.' He curled his arm across her shoulders and they turned and headed into town.

* * *

Having emptied his wallet in the Art and Craft market, she steered him into the warmth of the Regent Arcade.

'Oh, Harry, look!'

He dragged his attention away from the Sony window. Mothercare. 'Is it not a bit early to be buying baby stuff? I thought women were superstitious about these things.'

'Nice try, Pearce.' She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. 'Of course, if prams and babygros aren't to your liking, I think there's a jewellers up the far end...'

He stared at her. 'Are you saying what I think you're saying?'

She gave him a mischievous grin. 'I'm saying nothing. But babygros probably seem quite appealing all of a sudden, no?'

And taking his hand, she pulled a shocked Harry into the store.


	19. Chapter 19

**Oh dear, the last chapter's gone down like a lead balloon. Too long? Too boring? This is rather shorter, and hopefully an improvement! Thanks to all you hardy souls who are persisting with it!  
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_Thursday_

Phil dived into the pool, barely leaving a ripple in his wake. Beth rolled her eyes. 'Show off,' she muttered.

Dimitri eased away from the side. 'Come on, we've got two hours off; we don't want to spend them watching that tosser. Race you? Five lengths?'

Evidently he didn't know that Beth had been captain of her University team. 'Oh, go on then.'

They swam over to the shallow end and clambered out. Beth, clad in the bikini she'd bought for a holiday in Bali a couple of years earlier, was a bit narked that Dimitri seemed entirely oblivious to her gym-toned figure. 'Okay, on my shout,' she told him. 'Three, two, one, go!'

* * *

Two floors above them Tariq sat at Harry's desk, scanning through schematics of the hotel on his Macbook.

A few feet away, Harry, tie askew and face drawn from lack of sleep, flipped through profiles of all those who'd posted on the website. 'Is all the surveillance in place?' he asked.

'Yup.'

'The security detail?'

'They swept the building and grounds first thing. Nobody could get within half a mile of here without our knowing about it.'

"Staff?'

'Most have been here for years. They and agency staff - mostly locals - have been screened to within an inch of their lives. Nothing remotely suss.'

'Flight paths?'

'ATC have been told to keep the airspace clear two miles in all directions. Anything pops up on the radar, we'll have 'em.'

Harry chewed his lip. 'Any sign of any of the website lot heading this way?'

'Not so far. But for all we know they weren't the ones who were going to do the deed anyway.'

'Indeed. Ports, airports, bus and train stations?'

'Nothing that flags up any concerns. About this, anyway.'

'Another hoax?'

'Maybe. But all the other agencies deemed it worth taking seriously.' Tariq paused. 'Harry, is something wrong?'

'Hm?'

'It's just that you seem more on edge than usual. And this is fairly run of the mill, bread and butter stuff. Nothing you haven't dealt with a thousand times already.'

'Just checking we've covered all bases. Don't want a repeat of Havensworth.' He stood up and laid the folder on the desk beside Tariq. 'Right. Dimitri, Phil and Beth should be back in harness by noon. I'll see you later.'

Tariq knew better than to question his boss. He simply nodded, and returned to his laptop.

* * *

Traffic back into London was heavy, and not going anywhere fast. Harry jabbed at the radio until he found the local station. Traffic news confirmed a crash a couple of miles up ahead. He groaned. 'Come on!' When finally they began to move he was twenty minutes behind schedule. As he approached the M25 he scanned the road signs for warnings of delays. There were none. 'Hallelujah,' he breathed, and put his foot down.

* * *

As he circled the streets looking for somewhere to park his mobile beeped. 'I know, I know,' he muttered. Cursing his own insistence on the location and wishing he had a slightly more city-friendly car, he was beginning to consider just dumping the Range Rover outside the front door and paying the clamping charges, when he spotted a BMW pulling out ahead. Taking back everything he'd ever said about BMW drivers, Harry parked, locked the vehicle, and began to run.

By the time he reached the front desk, he was more than a little out of breath. The receptionist rather mischievously directed him to the fourth floor, and then smiling at the look of horror on his face, pointed to the lifts behind him. Up on the fourth floor he cannoned out of the lift, only to be presented with a long, empty corridor. He swore softly, and with a glance at the floor plan on the wall in front of him, turned left, and forced his protesting limbs into a jog.

* * *

The room was empty. There was nobody there. He clasped his hands to his head in dismay.

'Can I help you sir?'

He spun round. 'Uh, my partner, Ruth Evershed...she...'

The woman smiled. 'Second door on the left. You can go right in.'

The room was in semi-darkness. Ruth lay on a bed a few feet away, surrounded by monitors.

'Oh, Harry, thank god.'

''I'm sorry, sweetheart. Tailbacks, no parking spaces; you know how it is. What's happening? Have I missed it?'

'No, the nurse just popped out for a minute. See, I'm all jellied up.'

He sat down beside her and took her hand. 'I think you've got the beginnings of a bump, you know.'

'No, it's too early.' Her hand flapped against his chest. 'Don't go saying I'm fat already, for crying out loud. There'll be plenty time for that later on when I'm the size of a house.'

He was spared from responding as the nurse walked in.

'Ah, you must be Mr Pearce.'

Harry stood, and offered his hand. 'Harry, please. Nice to meet you.'

'I'm Kate. Sorry to keep you both waiting. Shall we make a start?'

She sat on a stool at the side of the bed, and turning the screen towards her began to move the transducer over Ruth's belly. Harry and Ruth both stared at it as if transfixed. It was Ruth that noticed the expression on the nurse's face, Ruth that realised she should have turned the monitor round by now for them to see the first image of their baby.

'Is something wrong?'

Harry looked up.

The nurse smiled at them. 'Nothing to worry about, I'm sure. I'm just going to ask the consultant to come and take a look.'

Harry felt Ruth's hand tighten around his. She sank back on to the pillow, her breathing fast and shallow.

'It's okay, Ruth. You heard her. Nothing to worry about.'

'Something's wrong, I know it.' She was close to tears.

Harry, hoping she couldn't hear his heart hammering, shushed her, murmured reassurances, and silently prayed.

* * *

Phil flipped his phone open. A text from Harry. 'Hm,' he said to the team, who all turned to him expectantly. 'Seems Harry isn't going to be back today. We're on our own.'


	20. Chapter 20

**You really are a lovely bunch. :) I'm very touched by the reviews for this, thank you. **

**And now we get to the final chapter. It's another short one, but I think it works. I hope!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of this...but thanks to Kudos and the BBC for providing such a rich source of material!**

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_Christmas Eve_

Occasionally, just occasionally, the mask would slip and Harry would let his grief show. Ruth, walking into the living room, saw him standing by the bookcase, head bowed, and she felt her heart constrict. Nestling against his back she snaked her arms around him. 'It will get easier, I promise,' she whispered.

He stroked her hand, then turning round he held her to him. 'It's the silly little things,' he said eventually. 'Things that make you think about what might have been.'

'I know.'

He kissed the top of her head and eased out of her embrace. She heard his footsteps on the stairs, and then the study door closed.

* * *

All she could do was keep busy. Yet the fridge and freezer were already stocked up with enough food to feed the entire Grid through the bells and beyond. This was despite Harry's best efforts to 'help out', which had constituted returning from the supermarket with a carload of booze, a pint of milk and a bag of brussels sprouts. 'What?' was his response to Ruth, who'd stood, hands on hips, as he carried in another case of wine.

The decorations, too, were up, the first time she'd bothered since her last Christmas with George and Nico, and all the presents were bought, wrapped, and under the tree. She tried not to dwell on the fact that she'd bought all bar two of them. Little did she know that tickets to New York nestled inside the book of Latin love poetry, or that as fireworks heralded the new year, the Tiffany diamond necklace would be accompanied by a platinum and diamond solitaire.

She couldn't even clean; neat freak Harry had ensured the house was spotless. Ruth sighed. Once upon a time she'd have been content to curl up on the sofa and watch a DVD but she felt restless; she needed some air.

'Scarlet?' The dog, lying on the sofa, her head cushioned on Harry's morning paper, wagged her tail.

'Fancy a walk?'

Scarlet's enthusiastic response sent supplements scattering. Laughing, Ruth tidied them up and went to put them in the newspaper rack. As she did so, her fingers brushed the pages of a catalogue. She pulled it out. Mothercare. It was folded open at the buggies. Memories of their last weekend in Cheltenham came flooding back. 'Thank goodness we didn't buy one of these, eh, Scarlet?' The agitating dog snapped her out of her reverie. 'Okay, okay, I'm coming.' Grabbing her coat and Scarlet's lead from the peg, the two of them ventured out into the December gloom.

Upstairs in his armchair, Harry poured another tumbler of whisky and sat staring into space.

* * *

They had been barely back five minutes when the doorbell rang. Busy making Scarlet's lunch, Ruth was about to shout for Harry, when to her surprise she heard movement upstairs. She heard him cross the hall, she heard the front door open, and then... silence. Puzzled, Ruth put the bowl down on the floor, washed her hands, and then went out into the hallway to check on their unexpected guest.

Harry stood in the doorway, his arms around his son.

* * *

'Christmas in the sun just seemed _wrong_,' Graham explained, 'and, well, given what's happened I thought that maybe this year I could spend Christmas with you two and then New Year with Mum and Robin. I hope that's okay?'

Harry handed him a glass of coke. 'Of course it's bloody okay. But why didn't you let us know you were coming? We could've picked you up at the airport.'

'Cos I wanted it to be a surprise.'

'You took a bit of a gamble. We could've been away on holiday.'

'Dad, you told me you were having a quiet Christmas at home. Remember? When you phoned me to tell me about Ruth?'

'Ah, right. Yes, so I did. Sorry, my head was a bit all over the place at that point.'

Graham turned to Ruth. 'So how are you keeping? You weren't so great, from what dad said.'

Curled up on the sofa beside Harry, Ruth forced a smile. 'No better, really. But it's still early days.'

'Mmm. Oh! That reminds me.' Graham disappeared into the hall and reappeared with his rucksack, the contents of which he proceeded to tug out onto the living room floor. Half way down he retrieved two small parcels, one of which he shyly held out to his father, one to Ruth. 'I, er, got you guys a little something. Happy Christmas, and all that.' Ruth, touched, unfurled herself and gave him a hug. 'Thank you, Graham, that's really kind of you. Can I put it under the tree for the morning?'

He grinned. 'Course you can.'

Harry sat staring at the parcel in his hands.

'Dad? I'm sorry it's not much..'

He looked up, and gave Graham a wobbly smile. 'It's perfect, son.'

Graham sat back in his chair, looking absurdly pleased. 'Well, I hope you still think that once you've opened it! Um, I also got something...' His hands delved into the rucksack once more and emerged holding two small teddy bears, which he handed to Ruth. 'For the babies.'

'Woah,' said Harry. 'One blue, one pink? Do you know something we don't?'

'Ah, come on, dad, this is Ruth we're talking about. She's bound to be super-efficient and present you with one of each in one go.'

Harry laughed, and Graham ducked as a small pink teddy bear flew past his ear.

'So when are they due, anyway? What?'

His father's face had clouded over.

'The fourth of July,' said Ruth, solemnly.

'Over my dead body,' said Harry.

* * *

_21 June_

The normal buzz of the Grid was suddenly interrupted by a chorus of beeps. Simultaneously, several hands reached for their mobile phones.

_From: Harry Pearce_

_Jamie and Emma arrived safely at 1114 and 1122. 5lbs 7oz and 5lbs 10oz . Both healthy and with those lungs will be joining their mother's choir shortly. Mother fine, father knackered. Drinks on me. Harry_

**The End**

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**Hope you enjoyed, and thanks again for reading and reviewing!  
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